Broken
by sweetlittlething
Summary: "You can't fix something you broke, Cato." - Crack!Katniss/Cato, rating has gone up
1. Anemone

**A/N: **Hi everyone! This is my first Hunger Games fic ever, and I hope you like it! Of course I** love** (biggest understatement of the year) Peeta and Katniss together, but I just wanted to write something about Cato and Katniss together, because they're probably my favourite HG crackship (despite the obvious fact that they'd never get together). I just have this weird intuitive assumption that after the movie they're gonna be the new Dramione/ And I wasn't really into Clove's character nor did I buy into the whole ClovexCato conspiracy, but that's just me.

Anyway, I hope you like it, updates may be infrequent as I have school coming up as well as have to attend to other fics and more pressing matters, so once again, enjoy, and please tell me what you think by hitting that cute little 'review' button at the bottom of the page :)

Thanks, and I claim no ownership over the _Hunger Games_ universe nor any of its characters or materials, unless stated otherwise explicitly. No intentions of earning money or profits are present in the writings of this story.

Thankyou, and please review! torrid

By the way; this is in **third person perspective, **simply because I don't particularly feel I like writing nor have the skills available for writing an effective first-person narration (it's mostly 'cause I feel like I'm writing _myself _into the story, and that just feels awkward to me).

**this is a horribly written chapter, my apologies. **This was really hard to write, lol, and I may consider re-writing it.

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by sweetlittlething**  
><strong>

x.x.x

**Chapter One - **Anemone

_"You used to captivate me_  
><em>By your resonating light<em>  
><em>Now I'm bound by the life you left behind<em>  
><em>Your face it haunts<em>  
><em>My once pleasant dreams<em>  
><em>Your voice it chased away<em>  
><em>All the sanity in me<em>

_These wounds won't seem to heal_  
><em>This pain is just too real<em>  
><em>There's just too much that time cannot erase"<em>

_- My Immortal, _Evanescence

.

.

.

It was just the three of them - she, the one who was once on fire, he, the boy with the ever-fading blue, blue eyes, and _him._

Their worst nightmare.

But she wouldn't let him win.

No, she wouldn't let him destroy what was so precious to her.

Katniss Everdeen would not let Cato take Peeta away from her.

Poised with hunter's muscles flexed and an arrow practically quaking to be released from its hold and into Cato's head, Katniss narrowed her eyes and gulped silently, trying her best to resist the temptation of trembling in front of everyone. She was scared, it was true. Scared of the pack of rabid Mutts beneath them, scared of what Cato was capable of, scared that the light would flicker out of Peeta's ever-fading eyes, scared of what _she _herself would do if Peeta was taken away from her. But she was determined not to let it show.

She would not let her fear conquer her.

Deciding to be strong, just as she was when she was 11 and had realised she needed to be the supporter of her family once it became clear her mother was going to do nothing to help them after her father's demise, Katniss shifted her stance slightly, but not enough to completely send Cato over the edge and into pushing Peeta into the pack of Mutts below. This was not a time for fear. Fear would get her nowhere, and right now fear would not be the saving light that would make sure Peeta was returned back to the safe zone (or whatever atleast somewhat resembled it, here in the arena).

_Calm yourself, Katniss, _she told herself steadily, sweat tricking down her brow, _now is not the time to go into hysterics. Peeta's life is hanging in the balance here. Focus!_

"What do you plan on doing now, Firegirl?" Cato taunted, his voice practically dripping with triumph and a certain sadistic glee that sent Katniss' mind spiralling with fear. Katniss loathed that tone of his voice. _Victory, _she thought glumly, her heart dropping with dread while she felt a chill of recognition run through her, _he knows he's going to win either way and there's nothing I can do about it._ "Shoot me and he goes down with me," the Tribute from District 2 called to her, his message clearly conveyed through his tone of delight and an expression likened only to that of Buttercup's when he had caught a new mouse as prey. _I've won, and you can do absolutely nothing about it, _his glinting eyes gloated at her.

Right now, they were in a stalemate. Atop the golden Cornucopia, Cato had Peeta in a firm headlock, Peeta a despairing image with a gaunt, grey face and a mess of a bloody leg Katniss was sure would need to be amputated. _Should he survive, that is, _she noted with a very real hint of panic and terror. Currently, the baker's son of District 12 was fighting a very problematic and distressing battle: whether to attempt to keep breathing, a thing Cato's muscular arm prevented, or to reduce the amount of blood loss from his thigh wound. Either way, the odds were definitely not in his favour, and all Katniss could do was watch hopelessly, while Cato relished in their pain and agony.

She wanted to do anything; anything at all to wipe that damned smirk off his lips and snuff out the flickers of amusement in his cool blue eyes. If there was one thing Katniss could be counted on it was definitely not going down without a fight. But now, she was helpless. If she shot Cato, he'd go down with Peeta with him. And if she didn't... Peeta...

she didn't even want to _think _about it.

It was idiotic, she knew. If she was viewing this from an entirely realistic and objective point of view, as Tribute of the Hunger Games and not Peeta's comrade (she wasn't sure _what _they were, anymore) then this would have been a _good _thing - allowing her competition to finish each other off, so that she wouldn't have the deed of killing Peeta himself hanging over her head. But she couldn't do it. Those moments in the cave... they _changed_everything. And, because of them, everything seemed to blur into one chaotic mess.

For the odds were never very dependable in Katniss' favour.

Stricken with both horror and awe at how much she had truly come to care for Peeta, a boy associated with a feeling she herself was unsure of, Katniss knew right then and there that she needed Peeta much more than she needed anything else in the world.

She needed Peeta to _survive._

The gravity of their grave situation came falling down on her once more, and when she saw Peeta's eyes go blank momentarily, everything she had fought against let loose - the next thing she knew, tears pricked at her grey Seam eyes, while she heard a voice crying out, pleading and shrieking.

It took her a few moments to realise it was her own.

"Peeta, you can't - !" she screamed, logic and inner-calm flying out the window as she lunged forward, hand outstretched to grasp Peeta's own, close, so close, so close that she could almost - !

his hand was gone.

It was all in slow-motion, like those horrible scenes one would see in the movies, the audience watching in horror, knowing the terrors that would unfurl yet remaining completely helpless, with nothing to do to stop it.

For Katniss, watching Peeta flung to the side of the Cornucopia and into the sea of rabid Mutts was one of those moments now.

At that moment, Katniss was sure the world was truly a hideous, cruel, rotting thing, snatching away the last thing that could convince her otherwise.

At that moment, something shattered and fell apart.

At that moment, Katniss Everdeen had lost all hope in the world.

_It can't be... no... it can't... Peeta... Peeta..._

_PEETA!_

"PEETA!" Katniss screamed, Cato unsure whether it was she or Peeta's cries that were more pain-filled. All of a sudden, Katniss flung herself to the edge of the large, golden horn, her eyes wide with terror while her lungs burned with pain. She refused to stop calling for him, fists clenched as all hope slipped from them. Finally, after a few moments, all logic came flloding back into her as she felt her outstretched hand lower in defeat. "Peeta,_ no..._" she whispered, heart literally bursting at the seams as she realised what she had to when his screams of despair finally sent her the message.

_Put me out of my misery._

After a second of silence, Katniss picked herself up from the ground, Peeta's screams and whimpers still echoing throughout the battlefield as she pulled an arrow from her quiver, head downcast and eyes hard as flint whilst Cato stood on the golden surface, close yet so distant from her. All he could do was watch as her fingers tightened around the weapon that had once granted pain and death. Now, it only granted peace and a release from all the suffering.

She had to do it.

She had to kill the Boy with the Bread.

The boy whom she had only realised just now, to her utter self-loathsomeness, she had grown to love.

She had to kill Peeta.

"Peeta..." Katniss whispered, words heavy with grief and pain_,_ as she raised her arrow and bow, aim right and true,

"I'm so... so _sorry._.."

a flick of the wrist -

and it was done.

The only confirmation of her deed accomplished was the mournful echoing of a cannon firing.

He was dead.

But she wouldn't allow herself to cry, or mourn or weep. Crying would do Peeta no good (now that he was _dead_), and if the Hunger Games had taught her anything, it was that life and its harsh realities did not condone sentiments and mourning; rather it stepped right over it and kept moving forth. She could do it when her father had died, she'd done it when her mother literally allowed herself to _waste _away, she'd done it when she had been appointed the position as District 12 Tribute... of course, there had been instances when she'd wept, but those were rare and fleeting; one of the few being Rue's death.

No, she would channel her emotions elsewhere.

Into _revenge. _Into the need to _live._

If there was one thing she could do for Peeta, it would be to kill Cato. Cato, who had instigated this terrible turn of events; Cato, who had killed Thresh;

Cato, who had taken Peeta away from her...!

Instantly, Katniss felt her knees buckle slightly, but she wouldn't give in. Resisting the urge to simply pound her fists against the ground and cry out like an enraged animal, Katniss restrained herself. She wouldn't cry. Inwardly, she experienced a torrent of emotions, ranging from anguish to a blinding, destructive flame of hatred, but she wouldn't do it. She'd vowed she wouldn't to Peeta, and it was a promise she intended to keep. Trying to not completely let loose like a rampant animal, Katniss let out a choking sob, quaking from pure and simple unadulterated _hatred. _It was the best she could do for now, without appearing completely broken (even if she was) or far-gone to the rest of Panem. She'd been a survivor all her life, and she would keep carrying out that life-long mission to retain her life.

Even if her only joy in living was seeing the face of a very much dead Cato.

Katniss Everdeen. A Survivor, and now an Avenger.

As Katniss felt the anger and adrenaline and pure _hate _course through her veins, she knew. All these emotions... yes, this was what she needed. Not the sadness and sorrow of Peeta's death, she needed a distraction - and slipping into the role of a Survivor and Avenger was just what she wanted. No emotions, no attachments, no sentiments - just the simple want and need to kill and survive. She'd mourn over Peeta later, but right now she was perfectly fine with preoccupying herself with the duty to keep on living.

And, of course, the duty to kill Cato.

Consumed in her rage and bloodlust and sudden urge to murder him, with lightning fast reflexes Katniss' hand flew straight to a stray arrow lying idle on the golden surface of the Cornucopia, already swept into its bow, turning as quick as a whip to face him, bow and arrow ready to kill.

Seconds inched by like decades, each of the Tributes frozen and stuck-still, all the while Katniss' sharp stormy eyes piercing into Cato's blank blue own.

_Blue just like Peeta's..._

Eager to sever and eradicate any connection between the boy who stood right before her and the one whom she had loved, Katniss quickly broke eye-contact, instead focusing her eyes on his blonde hair.

_The colour of wheat and butter... just like Peeta's... _her heart panged with remorse.

_No, he is nothing like Peeta. He is a _monster! _You have to kill him! _Katniss told herself frantically, shaking her head slightly.

Her fingers fidgeted, as if eager to send the arrow shooting off, but something held her back.

Cato.

What was he doing? Savouring in her defeat, her lowest moment, relishing that he, Cato, had brought the girl from District 12 to her breaking point, and only he had the privilege of witnessing first-hand the fall of Panem's obviously most cherished Tribute, proud with his success at extinguishing the flames of the girl who was on fire? If so, she couldn't care less. All she cared about now was that Peeta was dead and there was nothing good and pure in the world anymore.

_"Kill him", _she could imagine Haymitch shouting furiously, as the whole of Panem watched with bated breaths whilst they sat in their silent shock and sick and twisted anticipation, faces twisted with grotesque grins, "_kill him and get it over with! Kill him for killing Peeta!"_

Again, time flowed and passed them by, and yet Katniss did nothing, staring into Cato's eyes, as if searching for answers that she had no idea she wanted or needed.

Again and again, the pulsating urge to kill him kept pounding against her heart and ribs, and still she remained frozen, Cato standing stock-still, so close and yet so distant, his body rigid and unmoving, face betraying no emotion at all.

_Do something, _she inwardly screamed at him, boiling with frustration and misguided confusion, _do something, anything! Anything to make me want to kill you again, you sick bastard!_

But there was nothing. No triumphant yell, not even a smug chuckle or an insult thrown her way. Silence. It only prolonged his imminent death and made Katniss all the more confused.

Now she wasn't sure what she was doing anymore.

One last time, she heard Haymitch's infuriated and frustrated voice resound in her head.

_"Kill him!"_

_Now, _she told herself determinedly, adjusting her aim slightly so that the arrow would fly straight into the tall boy's head, _now is the time. I'm going to do it. I'm going to kill Cato. For Peeta, _she reminded herself firmly, unbeknownst to the fact that her arrow was trembling in her hold, _I'm going to kill him for making Peeta suffer. For taking him away from me, _she thought, a pang of ache resounding within her chest.

Yes, she would do it. She would kill Cato and finally get it over with... leave the horrible Games behind her... try and get over the loss of Peeta...

_For Peeta... _she reminded herself once more, as she felt the flames of determination and anger ignite from within once more.

But Cato! What the hell was he doing, just standing there? Had he progressed to the stage of complete and utter _idiocy _during the past five minutes? Where was the Cato that she wanted to hate, the Cato who had killed so many, who had relished in the sight of his skin splattered with the blood of mere _children, _who were just trying to survive, who had killed _her _Peeta? Staring at the Cato in front of her now, she knew he was gone.

She would have to do whatever she could to get him back.

"You always said it would come down to me and you," she spat out bitterly to him, shamed and bewildered at how _weak _she'd appeared in front of him, in front of all of them, "and now we're here. What now, Cato? You slice me into shreds with that sword of yours?" she glared angrily at him, gesturing with a nod of her head towards the sword lying idle on the surface they stood on, "Or are you going to go for the more tragic and sadistic method; throwing me down to the Mutts to join Peeta? God knows I wouldn't mind." she growled spitefully towards him, realising that despite the fact she wanted to live another part of her, a smaller one, wanted all the sadness and hate to end too.

A Survivor she was, but perhaps it wasn't something she wanted to be afterall.

And yet, no response.

Levels of agitation ascending, and certain that the stability of her mental state was steadily decreasing as the minutes droned on, Katniss did not once lower her bow as she kept her eyes determinedly pinned on Cato. She would kill him, she swore to herself, Cato would not leave the Arena alive.

So why couldn't she do it?

Now, Katniss felt the hatred towards Cato ebb ever so gradually away, like sand slipping between her fingers, and it made something within her snap. Now, the hatred that had once propelled her on, the hatred derived from the fact that he had _killed _Peeta was substituted with another, entirely different kind of hatred. Though Katniss would cast it off as hatred to the world for putting her in such a position, and hatred to Cato for suddenly slipping into the role of an innocent and defenceless man, Katniss knew.

It was a hatred towards herself.

A hatred that would eventually lead to her self-destruction, yet nonetheless a hatred she decided to leave unattended to allow it to grow. Like a cancer, it would spread, seeping into every orifice of her being. Right now, however, she didn't care. Right then, she hated herself more than anything._It was Cato's fault_, she'd try reasoning, _Cato, trying to appear like the good-guy while I'm the crazy psycho bitch, pointing and waving the arrow around while he just stands there, unarmed! Cato, for making _me _seem like the monster!_

_Cato, for showing me how easily my life is shattered once __Peeta went away..._

_Cato, for revealing how monstrous I really am within..._

_Me... I truly am a _monster...

_No!_

It was the heat, that was all. The Games, they tended to do that to people. Make them go crazy. Briefly, Katniss supported this idea with the memories of that male Tribute who'd _eaten _his victims, to that one back from District 4 who'd had to be institutionalized for going mad after she was the only one who could survive the flood that had wiped out the others in the Arena. When you were in the Arena, you really weren't yourself. The Games... they made innocent _children _fight. The Tributes... they didn't want to hurt anyone. Everyone just wanted to survive.

It wasn't their fault... none of them were really monsters...

except, of course, _Cato._

Cato, who had killed _her _Peeta.

Cato, who was now stripping himself of the flesh-coloured mesh-netting body armour that he had so clearly coveted and treasured as soon as he had gotten it. When Katniss heard the defence-mechanism fall to the floor, she knew then that she couldn't take it anymore.

There he stood, as tall and overpowering as ever, sword in hand and stripped of his fleshy body-armour. But why? briefly, Katniss tried to ascertain as to why at all he had made himself completely and utterly vulnerable to her arrows in the first place, but to no avail. If anything, it baffled and agitated her all the more.

Katniss didn't like it one bit.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she screamed furiously now, all common-sense and inner-peace demolished, "Why aren't you trying to kill me already? Isn't that what you wanted; to make me suffer and then to kill me? That's why you killed Peeta, wasn't it?" she shouted, almost hysterical, "You killed him just to make me suffer! From Day One you've always wanted to make me suffer defeat and die a slow, agonizing death! Well congratulations Cato, you've done it! I'm broken!" she confessed, as her mask fell apart, "So just do what you came to do - kill me! Do it then, Cato! Finish your job!" she implored angrily at him, voice trembling. "Kill me!"

Panting while her lungs burnt and chest heaved, Katniss let the bow clatter unceremoniously to the floor as she bent over, hands on knees, trying to catch her breath. _Don't cry Katniss, don't cry... _she told herself angrily, _don't show them weakness, you pormised Peeta... don't cry..._

Now, Cato took action. Taking one lumbering step forth, Katniss felt the pace of her heart quicken profoundly as she took an unsteady step back, hastily picking up her bow and arrow in defence. _This is it, _she thought, with almost a sense of relief flitting in through the fear settling in, _he's back. Cato, the murderer, now off to finish you. You have to kill him, Katniss, _She told herself, _this is your last chance._

Another step forth. Approaching her very slowly, almost cautiously, Katniss quickly whipped her unkempt braided head around to ensure she didn't fall off, before taking another wary step back. _A Survivor? _she heard a voice sneer within her head, _pathetic. A Survivor wouldn't take a step back from their enemy. What a coward._

"I _will _kill you!" Katniss screeched, hands shaking quite visibly now. And yet, Cato walked on, finally stopping right in front of her, their warm bodies mere centimetres apart.

"Then do it." he stated, voice devoid of any arrogance or even a hint of taunting, "Kill me."

She felt feverish, double-checking to see if she was hallucinating. It was her bad-ear, she was sure of it. Throwing everything off, making everything not make sense. Cato, throwing away the opportunity to kill her himself? It was crazy! Surely she was delusional.

_Maybe I have gone insane afterall, _Katniss inwardly mused with a bitter warmth seeping throughout her body.

And, to Katniss' utter and complete horror and dismay, she couldn't do it.

It was a brutal and ugly truth, and yet it was completely real in every way. Katniss Everdeen could not do it. She'd killed before, the boy who'd killed Rue being one of them, but now... angrily, Katniss clenched her fists, nails creating crescent-shaped indentations in her flesh as she struggled to come to terms with her situation. It was dumb, and it didn't make sense at all. Whether it was compassion, weakness or the fact that she had just possibly gone _insane _that prevented her, Katniss didn't know. But the ugly truth was she could not kill Cato.

In the end, she was nothing.

The old Katniss was completely and irrevocably _gone._

She was broken.

Silence.

And then,

"Ladies and gentlemen," Claudius Templesmith's voice booms, Cato looking around wildly, Katniss all the while still astounded by what had just transpired, "due to popular demand, there has been a revision in the current rules enforced. So, we are pleased to announce that for the first time in history of the Hunger Games we have two Victors - Katniss Everdeen of District 12 and Cato Stone of District 2! These are your winners for the 74th Hunger Games, Panem! Congratulations!"

It takes Katniss only a little while before she blacks out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know, it sucks. But please review and tell me what you think :) An explanation for Cato's behaviour will be presented next chapter.


	2. Aconite

**A/N: **Hi everyone! Hope you like this, it's a bit rushed and a bit crud, but I hope you enjoy!

**Also, thankyou so, so much for all your reviews and kind words of encouragement! **I was gob-smacked by how many people reviewed, especially for a story with _such _an unpopular pairing! I am so, so happy! Thankyou! Now I'm going to work hard to finish and updated to the best of my ability, okay ^^ ?  
>Thanks everyone! Hope you enjoy, once again !<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething**  
><strong>_

x.x.x

**Chapter Two - **Aconite

_"I feel numb_  
><em>I can't come to life<em>  
><em>I feel like I'm frozen in time<em>

_Livin' in a world so cold, wasting away_  
><em>Livin' in a shell with no soul since you've gone away<em>  
><em>Livin' in a world so cold, counting the days<em>  
><em>Since you've gone away, you've gone away."<em>

_- World so Cold, _Three Days Grace

.

.

.

It was a mistake. He knew it. As soon as he had thrown Loverboy to join the Mutts, he knew he'd made a fatal error. It was his perfect mistake, and now he'd have to pay the price. Big time.

Lying right now in the infirmary, the Arena long gone, Cato recounted the previous events that had just transpired in the Arena before the Capitol's hovercraft had arrived to collect Loverboy's body, or his remains. Slightly, he was grateful that Katniss had chosen to pass out before then; he knew that seeing the bloody, shredded pulp of the District 12 boy would not have bode well for her sanity. Or whatever remained of it.

Lying in safety and security now, Cato couldn't help but recount what had happened after they had been announced champions of the Games. As soon as the hovercraft had arrived, Cato had supported Katniss' slender and slightly malnourished build until the Capitol crew came along and promptly collected her from him, leaving him to be the only conscious one to dwell in the moment._Victory. _Somehow, it didn't feel as great as he had expected, or had been told it would feel all his life as a Career. Nonetheless, Cato had pumped a fist of triumph into the air, causing a sudden surge in volume to rise from the crowd being blasted out from the speakers. He'd done it. He'd won.

And so had that Katniss girl.

Katniss, the one who had loved her fellow district Tribute just as much as he had loved her.

How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know that that Katniss girl actually _was _in love with Loverboy? All the Tributes, from Clove to Glimmer to even Foxface had speculated it was a fraud, a ploy devised by the District 2 Tributes to garner as much popularity and sponsors as possible. Heck, even by looking at that girl, he could see that nothing else was on her mind other than her own survival. He was certain that she could have cared less if Loverboy died.

So what had changed?

Cato had always guessed, assumed that Katniss was just like him: a Survivor. Though he had grown as close as he could to developing feelings_somewhat _like affection for his fellow District 2 Clove, he knew that when the time came he'd kill her without a second thought just to advance the chances of his own survival. Clove knew it, the other Careers did. And what was so wrong with that? Killing for the sake of preserving your own life? The Games weren't some little get-together for the Districts to become friends and learn about what the concept of 'humanity' was. The Games had no rules such as "treat others as you yourself would want to be treated" or any pansy bullshit like that. No, the Games followed one rule and one rule only - "Kill or be killed."

And Cato was perfectly fine with abiding by that rule.

But Firegirl... she'd done something in the Arena, changed the rules.

Changed _his _rules.

She was, undoubtedly, the only exception to the "Kill or be killed" rule.

To Cato, it just didn't make any sense.

Why did she care so much about that _damn _Loverboy?

And why did he care so much about her and what she even cared about?

To be honest, yesterday he hadn't expected her to break down and go hysterical like that. He'd thought she would have done quite the opposite - showing not even a sliver of grief deter her as she continued her quest on becoming the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. He'd devised that plan all along; slaughtering Loverboy publicly only to have the whole of Panem show that the Firegirl couldn't have cared any less. He wanted to humiliate her - she was a _horrible _enough actor as she was (just by looking at the interviews could tell him that) so killing Loverboy off would have definitely shown Panem how heartless and fake she was and her love for her District counterpart was. It'd been a fantasy of his; humiliating Katniss Everdeen. To him, it was just as triumphant a moment as becoming the Victor of the Games itself. Perhaps, even more.

Which was why it just didn't make any sense.

It didn't make any sense the way her brutal indifference slipped almost instantaneously into panic.

It didn't make any sense the way she screamed and pleaded for Loverboy to come back.

It didn't make any sense the way she refused to kill him.

It didn't make any sense the way she practically _begged _for him to end her life.

And what was possibly the most puzzling, mind-fucking thing of all was that he didn't.

He couldn't.

Something had changed.

And he didn't like it.

It was just the way she practically _fell apart _right before him. Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, who had captivated the whole of Panem with her fiery attitude and her aloof mindset that focused purely on survival of the fittest and getting out alive. Gone, by the simple _push _of Loverboy down the Cornucopia. Did she honestly love Loverboy _that _much? He cared for Clove, sure, and the death of her made something horrible fill him, but it wasn't that bad. Eventually, he got over it. He didn't go on and break apart like the District 12 girl did. Perhaps it was the fact that they were raised differently; he a Career, she a simpleton from one of the poorer districts, were Reaping was supposedly a _dreaded _occasion, rather than than one of victory and excitement. They weren't _that_different, she and he, the only difference between the both of them being that he took pleasure in the suffering of others whereas she did not. He didn't think anyone was physically capable of loving someone so much that the fire in their eyes was burnt out. Then again, she didn't really _love _Loverboy, did she?

Somehow the thought of her _loving _someone made him uneasy.

He didn't know why though, and now frankly, he couldn't have cared less. She was his enemy, who had dropped Tracker Jackers on him and his fellow Tributes, who had mocked and ridiculed them, who had dared to get a higher training score than he. If anything, her suffering should have been pure_bliss _to him.

So why didn't he feel any happiness in the way she called for her 'Peeta'? Why didn't he take joy in the fact that he had brought her to her defeat?

What made Katniss Evereen _different_?

When he heard her cries pierce the air, he felt _something. _Something odd. Something he'd never felt before. Whatever it was, it took away all the happiness inside him. The way she quivered just from trying to restrain herself from crying - he would have preferred her shaking from anger than that. He would have rather seen pure _hate _from her eyes than the pure _grief _in her eyes when she looked at him. When she looked at him, gone was the fire. Now, nothing but emptiness and hollow, hollow _nothingness _occupied her Seam eyes. And for some stupid reason, he didn't like it. Even now, he felt a pang of something undesirable resonate in his chest at the thought of her.

And the way he had practically walked up to her, defenceless, telling her to kill him, wondering what it would have been like to know the girl before the Hunger Games, before they inadvertently and unavoidably became enemies... what she would have been like should they have met under completely different circumstances...

what would it have felt like to be the one responsible for the fire in her grey, grey eyes, instead of the one who had caused it to go out...

suddenly, Cato shook his head, hastily retreating from that train of thought as quickly as he had come across it. No, he did not keep Katniss Everdeen alive simply out of a change of character or a sudden sense of mercy or even _caring _for her. His actions were foolish and stupid and immediately he regretted them immensely.

He should have killed her, he decided angrily, _I should have killed her so I didn't have to worry about her anymore. It was stupid, allowing her to live. Completely and utterly foolish._

Feeling more foolish and pathetically humiliated than ever before, Cato let out a low growl, causing one of the bustling nurses to jump back and squeak slightly, before hastily making her way out of the room. Allowing Katniss Everdeen to live was a stupendously stupid mistake on his part, a grave error indeed that he sorely regretted making. She was filth. There was no need in leaving filth to fester when the option of cleaning it out was so plain and simple.

_I'm going to kill her, _Cato thought determinedly, a sinister snarl making its way upon his lips, _I'm going to kill her and no one's going to interfere. This time, she's dead._

And with that, Cato returned back to his pleasant thoughts of victory, not once at all even daring to venture back into the irksome enigma known as Katniss Everdeen.

...

Awake.

That was what she was.

Awake, and alive.

Instantly, just as soon as her eyes had opened and her consciousness had flooded back to her, Katniss slipped back into a state of tiredness, despite her body feeling numb from probably lying down for so long. Where was she?

White, sterile, frigid. Those were the words that described her surroundings, with too bright lights and nothing but placid white, white white. What happened to the Games? And most importantly,

where was Peeta?

Looking down to her wrists, Katniss grimaced. Tubes were poking in and out of her wrists, transferring fluids into her veins. Taking the time to look over her body, Katniss noted with amazement how all her wounds were gone and marvelled at how the once hideous scars on her flesh had been reduced to soft, pink skin. What the hell was going on?

_Think, Katniss, think! Back to the arena... back to Cato... back to... back to..._

Peeta.

Suddenly, a torrent of images swirled around in her head, as she gripped the frame of the bed tightly, hot and disoriented whilst pictures and memories replayed over and over in her mind. The Golden Cornucopia... the Muttations with human eyes... Cato... Peeta...

_Peeta..._

_Peeta was dead._

Suddenly, being awake and alive wasn't such a relief afterall.

"_Oh, god_," Katniss choked, as an immense wave of horror and pure repugnance washed over her, causing her to shudder at the memories of Peeta being tossed into the pack of Mutts only to be torn apart. Peeta, who was one of the only things in the world she was certain was still pure and good...

Peeta, whom she had loved...

Peeta, who was _dead..._

"Oh god, oh god," Katniss' voice slipped out, sounding like a cross between a sob and a choke, "Peeta, _Peeta_..." she whispered mournfully, as the memory of the Boy with the Bread swept by her.

And then she remembered other things, too. How she had ended his suffering with a single arrow, and then lunged straight ahead to kill Cato. And Cato... how he had just _stood _there, the bastard, _stood _there and practically _awaited _her to shoot and kill him, like a dead man walking awaiting his imminent and inevitable execution. Cato, whom she wanted to hate so, _so _much...

she remembered how she couldn't kill him, and how much she had hated herself for that one, stupid moment where she realised she couldn't do it, realised she couldn't kill the one boy she was certain she could ever hate in the entire world, with the exception of the Capitol. She had felt so weak, and _broken _then...

so, so _broken_...

so much so that she had practically _begged _Cato to take her life...

_Weak, _Katniss thought spitefully, as her nails dugs into the palms of her hands, _that's what I am._

_Weak._

Sighing softly, Katniss resumed her idle mission of inspecting her body. Running her hands down her body, Katniss grimaced slightly as she felt her fingers slide against the bony contours of her ribs. How long had she gone without eating to be reduced to such a state? Feeling her stomach rumble longingly for the beef-and-plum stew she had grew so accustomed to during her stay in the Capitol, Katniss continued examining her now flawless skin and her filed down shiny nails. Even her hair, which had been unkempt and quite frankly nasty had been conditioned so that it was now a silky, soft and glossy brown. Twirling a lock around one finger, Katniss noted with glee that her left ear had been repaired and was fully-functioning. However, this joy was quickly crushed when she remembered what Peeta had to give in order for her to be here now.

Suddenly, Katniss heard a soft footfall by the door. With hunter's reflexes, the District 12 Victor rapidly spun her head around, only to see a familiar face - the red-haired Avox girl.

"Oh, it's you," Katniss said in relief, as she relaxed whilst the silent girl carried a platter of food to her bedside. Looking down expectantly at the bowl, Katniss wrinkled her nose in distaste. Clear broth, a small, meagre serving of apple sauce and a glass of water. _This is it? _Katniss thought grumpily, disappointment clearly evident on her features, as the Avox pressed a small spoon into her hands, subtly allowing her own hand to squeeze Katniss' tightly in reassurance as the spoon passed itself from her hand to Katniss'. Looking up to the red-haired girl's face, despite knowing that she was probably being closely monitored, Katniss nodded slightly in appreciation before the Avox disappeared out the door once more.

Forcing the hot, tasteless broth down her throat, it took Katniss every effort to swallow down the food despite her body's obvious need for it. Apparently, her appetite had shrunk to that of the size of a chestnut, for when she finally finished the broth, she was certain she would throw up if she even attempted to devour the apple sauce. _Useless, _Katniss thought, tiredly, a haze of lethargy consuming her as the sudden urge to just fall asleep suddenly appeared.

_Useless._

No. She wouldn't do it. She wouldn't allow herself to be weak, despite how tired she was.

She had to cling to her last shred of hope left in the world, no matter how fragile or bleak it was.

She needed to find him.

_Peeta._

She needed evidence; proof; anything, to certify that Peeta was really gone. Maybe, there was still a chance; maybe, there was still hope that things could get better again, that the last ray of light in the world could be returned to her. As Katniss wriggled out from beneath the stiff white sheets tucked around her lower-half, wild thoughts and deluded notions raced through her mind._What if Peeta really isn't dead? _Katniss thought excitedly, as her hands grasped for slivers of hope that were pretty much non-existent, feet hitting the cool tiles of the infirmary flooring, _what if all along those 'memories' of Peeta dying and Cato living were nothing more than effects from the morphling?_

It was crazy, and practically insane, but the more Katniss believed in it, the more real it became.

_I have to find him, _Katniss thought wildly, anticipation and determination swelling within her chest as she padded through the infirmary corridors, fingers clenching the hem of her white hospital gown tightly, _I have to find Peeta and find out if he's okay._

Another turn, and finally Katniss' eyes spotted the big, white slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway. Inside, she could hear murmurs and chatter.

And when she saw that the occupant in the bed had beautiful blonde, blonde hair, her lips broke into a smile while her heart was reassured that everything in the world was okay again.

_That's it!, _Katniss thought cheerily, breaking out into a run despite the pain shooting up her legs, _Peeta's in there!_

Tears of joy almost began to stream down her face, but Katniss wouldn't let it. _Not until I see Peeta, _she thought stubbornly, her jaw set as she slowed down to fast, determined strides, _I promised him I wouldn't cry. And then when I see him we'll laugh and we'll cry and we''ll scream and we'll kiss and everything will get better again, _Katniss reassured herself once more, squeezing her fists tightly,_it has to._

It _had_ to get better.

Inwardly, Katniss feared what would happen if things did not.

She could imagine it now; bursting into the room, completely disregarding the fact that Haymitch and Effie were there as she leapt onto the bed and into Peeta's arms, pounding her fists upon his chest as she cried how he had made her so, so scared. _Then he would smile, _Katniss thought warmly,_because that's what Peeta would do. __Then Haymitch would get mad at me for jumping on an injured boy, but inwardly we wouldn't care. We'd all be glad that everything was good and normal again. _Of course, with the bloody mess Peeta's leg was in, he'd have had it amputated, but she couldn't have cared less.

_Peeta. He's all I need.  
><em>  
>Suddenly, it was the big moment. Having unconsciously returned to running, Katniss let her smile turn into a big grin as emotions she was certain she'd never feel again after Peeta's supposed death swelled within her chest, surging and rising dramatically as her hands pushed against the door.<p>

_Peeta, Peeta, Peeta...!_

"Peeta!" Katniss cried out, her sudden outburst stunning all those in the room with the exception of herself.

And that was when she saw it.

His hair may have been blonde, and his eyes may have been blue, but she couldn't have been anymore wrong.

_Oh, god... _Katniss thought, dismay and pure, distinct horror crashing down on her as the gravity of her situation weighed in, feeling her knees buckle whilst she shakily broke down on the ground.

_Oh god, oh god, no, no, no, this can't happen, this... it can't...!_

For the boy with the blonde hair and the blue eyes was not Peeta.

It was Cato.

And just like that, Katniss Everdeen lost any chance of ever getting fixed again.

She was irrevocably, and irreparably, _broken._

...

It took only one look; _one _look into those grey, grey eyes for his resolve to kill and forget about her to fall apart.

_One, _single, _fucking_ look, for Cato Stone to be reminded of how much he had broken the girl from District 12 into hollow and empty obliteration.

Why did it have to happen? Just when he'd reassured himself he would no longer associate any feelings of guilt or pity over her, she went and reminded him once more. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who he would never stop regretting letting her live.

_Fuck, _Cato thought, heartbeat literally stopped as his last breath got caught in his throat, body and muscles rigid and tight.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

There she was, sitting in a mess as her hands covered her eyes, breaths coming out in short, shaky gasps as she rocked back and forth, back and forth.

She was gone.

What had happened to her? What had made her crack?

_"Peeta," _he remembered her voice crying out in such jubilation and pure _happiness,_ as she burst into the room,Cato himself sure he was incapable of unless it was derived from the sight of his opponent's blood splattered on the ground.

_Peeta. Peeta. Peeta._

Peeta.

It took one life, one insignificant life, of a boy she wasn't even supposed to love, for Katniss Everdeen to fall apart.

And, for some reason, Cato Stone felt more regret than he had ever felt before.

"What's wrong with her?" One of Cato's mentors, Enobaria, asked, disgust and disdain clearly written on her less-than-attractive features, arms crossed as she looked down resentfully towards the District 12 girl.

Cato said nothing, as his blue eyes quietly smouldered down on the Seam girl. It was almost impossible, to imagine that _this _girl before him was once one of the 74th Hunger Games' best and most fierce competitors, that _she_ was the one he had sworn to kill himself, that _she_ was that heartless Tribute who had gotten a perfect 11 for her score during training.

It was hard to want to kill someone who gave you no reason to.

"District 12 always _did _raise weak Tributes," Brutus, another mentor of Cato's, commented with malice. "The only thing they know how to do is mine. That's why they're so weak and filthy."

But Cato wasn't listening.

His eyes were glued to Katniss.

Katniss, who he could no longer find a reason to kill.

Katniss, who he would have to force himself to hate, just to kill her.

_Katniss Everdeen..._

"Katniss!" a new voice, rough and hoarse, entered the room, as a man with sandy blonde hair and a dishevelled suit that had the distinct odour of alcohol on it swept into the room, grey eyes similar to Katniss' own exclusively trained on Katniss and Katniss alone as he completely ignored the others in the room, crouching down to Katniss' side instantly.

It took Cato a few seconds to realise that this was Haymitch Abernathy, the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell and sole Survivor of the 50th Hunger Games.

Cato could barely recognise the District 12 mentor from his old self during the Games. Having watched videos and footage of the previous Hunger Games during his preparation for the 74th Games themselves, he could remember the District 12 Victor well. Strong, lean and incredibly agile, Haymitch was the only living Victor from District 12, having resorted to alcoholism after the Games. It was odd to think that the boy who had used force-fields to defeat his enemy whilst holding his intestines in could have become the man he was now, a dishevelled, unkempt and incredibly pitiful alcoholic.

Then again, it was a sad truth Cato had learnt that the Games changed everybody.

Even the strongest.

"Come on, sweetheart," Haymitch's rough voice coaxed the girl softly, as she rose to her feet, looking wilted and weary, another pang of something horrid and foreign resounding in Cato's chest, "let's get you back to Effie, eh? Fix you up with a nice hot bowl of lamb stew with dried plums, and then visit Cinna later, okay?" he said, voice strained and heavy with something akin to grief and remorse.

"Peeta..." Katniss whispered softly, eyes empty as Haymitch slipped his arm around her shoulders for support.

"I know, I know," Haymitch murmured tenderly back to her, "he's gone now, sweetheart."

As the two District 12 Victors turned towards the exit door without another word, Cato could do nothing but watch, silent and frozen in feelings similar to the time when his mother forgot his birthday whilst Enobaria scowled and Brutus glared irritably after the two. It was only when they reached the door that Katniss looked back, this time surprisingly straight at him, Seam eyes icy yet stale.

It was her words that surprised him the most; Katniss Everdeen, the girl who changed everything.

The girl who made him _feel _things he wasn't meant to.

"I," Katniss spoke slowly, words certain and steady, her breaths harsh and short, as if the next words would be so easy to utter, whilst Cato sat there, entranced both in suspense and wonder and fear and anticipation,

"will _never_ forgive you, Cato."

And with that, they were gone.

And, for some inexplicable reason, unbeknownst to Cato, those words would haunt him for the rest of the evening until later that night, when the nightmares came and he would wake up in cold sweat, heart racing and fingers clenched.

Little did Cato know that those nightmares would always be filled with _her._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So did you like it? Please tell me how you feel by hitting the review button :)


	3. Marigold

**A/N: **Hi everyone! So, school's been a bit of a pain so updates will be irregular unfortunately :( But I will do my absolute best to finish and write to the best of my ability, okay :) ? I'd just like to thank everyone for their **helpful and thoughtful reviews, **really, you guys are amazing! Thanks!

Btw; you may have noticed that the** titles have been named after flowers. **This applies to _all _chapters now, since I've grown such a fond fascination with the art of _floriography, _otherwise known as the Victorian-era's ever-popular _Language of Flowers. _So, at the end of each chapter, I'll preview the next flower title, and you can figure out the next chapter's theme from there :) Have fun doing so!

AND I WATCHED THE MOVIE ! It was perfect (except the implications of Glimmer and Cato's liking each other) ! Rue and Peeta were absolutely adorable, it truly was absolutely flawless!

Anyways, please review, and once again, enjoy ! - sweetlittlething

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething**  
><strong>_

x.x.x

**Chapter Three - **Marigold

_"I know that things are broken_  
><em>And though there's too many words left unsaid<em>  
><em>You say you have spoken<em>  
><em>Like the coward I am, I hang my head<em>  
><em>And you lay careless your head on my chest<em>  
><em>And don't even look at me looking my best<em>  
><em>And all these things I can't describe<em>  
><em>You would rather I didn't try."<em>

_- __Liar, _Mumford and Sons

.

.

.

_"I will never forgive you, Cato."  
><em>  
>A nightmare.<p>

_"I will never forgive you, Cato."_

Another nightmare.

_"I will never forgive you, Cato."_

Another one.

_"I will never forgive you, Cato."_

And _another _one.

The same, always the same. _"I will never forgive you, Cato," _those words would whisper chillingly into his slumber as he'd wake up, angry at having been shaken by the same damn words again. By the time he'd finally decided to just stay awake in bed, sleeping obviously having been deemed a hopeless initiative, it had been the fourth time he'd woken up in one night, the clock on the bedside table glowing a bright red '4.30 AM' in the darkness. And each time, he'd find himself feeling more and more resentful towards himself.

_Why _did he have to be so damn weak? And why did Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire's words have _such _an affect on him in the first place, despite the fact that he'd decided he hated her so much? He'd tried looping through these questions after about the fourth or fifth time he'd woken up, but still there was no answer.

_Because of her eyes,_ a voice murmured sickeningly in his head, _because it was _you _that killed the fire in them._

_ You were the one who _broke _her._

He didn't care; he wasn't even supposed to. She was Katniss Everdeen, a skinny and plain girl who was borne out of the mining district doomed to live a monotonous petty life as a coal-miner who also just happened to know how to use a bow; he, on the other hand, was Cato Stone, one of the most ambitious and superior Careers of his time, with stunning good looks and a heritage of prestigious Peacekeepers and Victors to match. And now, he was one of them.

But so was she.

It was almost disillusioning; remembering the fact that they had _both _won the annual Games. In all of the history of Panem, not a single Games had ever accomplished what the 74th had before. _Two Victors. _The very idea was absurd, but it had become a reality. Why it had happened when it was so blatantly obvious that the Capitol obviously lapped up the thought of seeing bloodshed where it could be appointed Cato did not know, but he did not want to question it.

He had won, and that was enough.

But it did raise questions. Why _were _they both crowned as champions? Was there a conspiracy going on in the Capitol that Cato had no knowledge about? Or, was Katniss _so _popular that the Capitol had decided they could not bear the thought of seeing her dead? _No, _he reasoned, _it still doesn't make sense. _Finnick Odair of District 4 had been possibly one of the most popular Tributes in the history of the Hunger Games, and yet there had been no such a movement to crown him and the other Tribute both Victors in order to keep him alive. And anyhow, it was always Loverboy who was garnering the attention. His fellow District Tribute's favour with the crowd was nothing compared to how much all of Panem loved Peeta.

_Why did they keep us both alive? _Cato pondered frustratedly, running a hand through his spiky blonde hair whilst the other lay flat against his abdomen, _what made us so special? Think, Cato, think!_

_"Due to popular demand,_"

Claudius Templesmith's voice echoed ominously in his head.

And, for the life of him, Cato still could not find the actual answer.

But that didn't matter.

For, at the end of the day, Cato would concede, satisfied as he tried to wrestle himself back to sleep once more, there would only be one way the Games would really be ending:

the death of District 12's Katniss Everdeen.

...

"_You'll be alright, Katniss," _they'd told her, as she shakily sat herself back down on the hospital bed, feeling fragile and just about to _lose it, "nothing bad will happen any more to you, we promise. You need to rest," _they'd reassured her, as if she was some child who didn't understand the concept that _sleeping _didn't exactly fix anything at all but gave you a break from all the shit going on in your world, _"and everything will be okay again. You'll be alright." _

But she wasn't. And how could they expect her to go to sleep when her dreams were always filled with _him_? Peeta, and his warm hands, Peeta, and his stories, Peeta, and his kind lips and words, Peeta, who was the only one who could make things better again when everything else became too much for her. How could they expect her to go back to sleep where she would either be lulled into the illusion that he was back, safe and warm, only to realise he was a dream upon waking or even worse, see him bloody and dead, his screams haunting her every time she shut her eyes? No, they didn't understand, not at all. She was _not _going to be 'alright'.

How could things be 'okay' when she wasn't even sure she wanted to _live _anymore?

That was possibly what she feared the most. That she'd relied on Peeta too, too much as her reason to see the world as right and beautiful when it had been so ugly that when he'd been taken away it had suddenly dawned on her how terrifying it was to actually be alive. To be human. She had never been like this before and this was probably the only reason she could think of as to why she could ever hate Peeta. If she had to blame Peeta for one thing, it would be for reducing her to _this. _Weak, fragile, hateful, empty.

_A shell of her former self._

She hated it, being like this. She wanted to do what she always did when something horrible happened to her, bite her lip and carry on, as if nothing had happened. But this time, she couldn't. Not when _he _was gone.

Not when she wasn't herself anymore.

Cinna, Effie, Haymitch. They were all the same. No matter how good their intentions or how sincere their concern for her was, they did nothing to her. They could not change the fact that she was irreparably broken and destroyed. It wasn't their faults, she knew. And she did not expect them to go back and pick up the pieces after her either. But she couldn't help it. Never had she felt so distant nor so disconnected from them, as if the thread connecting them all had been severed and cast away. Right now, she was alone and empty. It was stupid and it was weak, but she couldn't help it. Perhaps, she would be okay after a while, or at least pretend to be, but right now she couldn't. Right now, she couldn't bear to face them like _this._

_Maybe, _Katniss thought wearily, as she clambered into her bed, feeling far older than what she really was, _maybe one day things will be fine. Maybe, I'll get over this, just like I got over dad's death. Maybe, maybe... _she thought, hoped, bleakly, wistfully, as her eyes shut, despite sleep being the farthest thing from her mind right now.

but deep down, she knew. Katniss knew, that deep, deep down, that wavering hope would flicker weakly before being snuffed out completely by the cruel, cruel world.

And only later would she realise that the one thing that had smothered that hope completely would be unimaginably herself.

...

_"Peeta," _Katniss heard her voice cry out, hoarse and distraught, she could not lose him, not again, God knows what would happen if she did_, "Peeta, no!"_

There, he stood. Blonde ruffled hair as soft as feathers and as bright as straw, with his sad blue eyes and his sad, sad smile. The sight of the sad curvature of his lips sent Katniss' heart breaking as she felt her eyes sting and chest ache.

_"Katniss," _he breathed softly, sadly, the smile painted on his face sending her emotions into overdrive_, _his body too close to the edge of the Cornucopia for Katniss' liking. What was he doing there, so close to falling off? Didn't he know there were Mutts down there, waiting to rip and tear him apart?

_"What the hell are you doing, Peeta?" _Katniss screamed shrilly, deja vu pulsating through her mind, _"Peeta, get away from there! Can't you see, you could fall off any second now? Please Peeta, get away from there!"_ she cried, throat raw and aching, as desperation clawed furiously from within.

_"I'm sorry, Katniss," _he spoke, quietly, softly, unafraid, face still etched with that ridiculously-infuriating smile, Katniss inwardly yearning to wipe it off herself, _"I'm sorry. But you," _he continued, Katniss' eyes wide with fear and disbelief, _"you can't save me. _

_You didn't save me."_

_"Peeta, NO!" _Katniss shrieked, as she jumped forth, fingers splayed out, trying to grab something; anything, just to keep the Boy with the Bread safe and alive. _"God, Peeta, Peeta, Peeta..." _she sobbed uncontrollably, shivers raking her body, her hands clasped over her ears as she rocked back and forth.

Again...! Again she couldn't save him, again, she had killed him... it was like pure torture; the idea of him being dead more painful than the time the Tracker-jackers had stung her body all over. This time, this pain threatened to tear her apart, soul, body and mind. This time, she would never fully recover.

_I killed him... _she thought in pure horror, gazing down at her shaky, clammy hands that were now suddenly drenched with blood, _Peeta's _blood, _I killed him again..._

_I _killed _him..._

_..._

Suddenly, Katniss felt herself snap from the Cornucopia to the hospital infirmary, her body trembling all over whilst her heart beat madly against her chest. It took her a few moments to realise that that shrill, piercing cry filling the air around her was not someone else's.

It was her own.

"Katniss," someone's voice drifted in, urgent and concerned, as she felt hands drift to her shoulders and cheeks, shaking softly, "Katniss, snap out of it! It was just a dream, sweetheart, it was just a dream..."

Softly, Katniss felt herself be caressed by the warmth of someone familiar and comforting, feeling the steadiness of her hateful heart resume whilst the shivering subsided to static nothingness. Even with the warmth of her comrade enveloping her, she still could feel nothing. It was a reproachful and conceited thing, feeling numb. And yet, Katniss revelled in it as she shut her eyes silently. Being empty was better than feeling what she had felt in her dreams. It was an odd thing; in the real world, she could feel absolutely nothing, detached and disconnected, whilst in her dream world, the world where nothing was real, nothing was truly tangible, that was when the pain and hurt struck her the most.

_Katniss Everdeen, _she thought grimly, a dry taste in her mouth, _the girl who was backwards._

But in the end, it didn't matter.

Once again, Peeta was gone.

And once again, Katniss Everdeen was alone.

_..._

She didn't sleep the whole night after that.

When she realised the sun had begun to poke its way through the curtains; it was morning, and a new cruel day had begun. Even Haymitch, who understood her more than she thought anyone else could, even her own sister Prim, had fallen asleep, snoozing heavily on her, blonde head resting on her lap from where he sat. Even now, he still reeked of the faint stench of alcohol. But atleast it was faint.

Carefully, Katniss slipped out from beneath him, gently substituting her lap for a pillow as she got out of bed once more, stretching. After that nightmare, she had resigned herself to monotonously staring at the bright red numbers of the clock besides her, her lips sealed and mind for once silent. How she had managed the night without getting a single wink after that hideous dream she did not know, but even now she didn't feel any bit at all exhausted.

Just empty.

Shutting herself into the dressing room, Katniss slipped out of her clothing and into a comfortably simple grey dress. Allowing herself to steal a glance at the mirror, Katniss felt slightly repulsed at what she saw: a pale, pasty girl with dark rings beneath her grey, empty eyes. Her hair was unruly, having not been combed, and she looked like an utter _mess._

But she couldn't have cared less.

Exiting the dressing-room, Katniss made her way to what she assumed to be the dining room, an excited chatter exuding from it as she drew closer, her face a blank slate. From where she stood she could see Effie, Cinna and his team, amiably conversing over big white plates of delicious slabs of ham and salad.

She could also see Cato.

At the sight of him, dressed impeccably in a jet-black suit accented with gold details, blonde hair slicked back, as if he owned the world, Katniss felt something flare up from within - small, but, nonetheless, _something. _Whether it was fury, or hate, or disdain, she didn't know but as soon as she had noted it it had died down again, as if it had never existed. Clenching the hem of her dress tightly, before letting it go again, Katniss entered the room, met only with silence.

"Katniss..." Cinna started, faces surrounding her, staring at her, pulling her apart.

"Katniss!" Octavia suddenly interjected, leaping to her feet and charging at the girl in urgency. Instantly, Katniss felt the light pea-green woman's hands swim up to her cheeks. "Katniss," the plump woman cried scandalously, "you look awful! This won't do at all for the interview, not at all! Now," she continued, placing her hands on her hips, "let's get you all fixed up so that Cinna can show you the dress he came up with. It _is _rather lovely," Octavia finished, grabbing one of Katniss' hands and tugging her out of the room. "You'll like it very much," Octavia added alluringly, as if the prospect of a beautiful dress could fix everything.

Could fix her.

Entering the elaborate dressing-room, Octavia cheerily set the District 12 Tribute down into a padded chair, humming a merry tune, as if it was the brightest day in the world when Katniss was sure it couldn't have gotten any more dark. Twirling around in her shockingly-repulsive bubblegum-pink dress, the woman with green flesh stood behind her, combing a brush through the Victor's long dark, tangled hair. "Tut tut, Katniss," Octavia tsked disapprovingly, "when was the last time you brushed this? It's in an awful mess!"

But if Katniss had heard it, she didn't reply. Slighted just ever so slightly by the stunning silence she received, Octavia gulped slightly and pursed her lips before deftly massaging a soft, gold cream into the brunette's now knot-free locks. The silence was unnerving to say the least, but the Capitol-native was determined to make the Victor feel all better again. Soon, Katniss' hair was gleaming, as radiant as the sun itself and as soft as the bread Peeta had once baked them all. Falling in soft, elegant waves over her shoulder, Octavia sighed inaudibly at just how beautiful she thought Katniss could look if she just learnt to eat more and smile a lot more often. For a girl so young, Katniss frowned an awful lot. But still, Katniss remained motionless, simply staring blankly into the mirror in front of her.

"Now, Cinna's dress, I think you'll like it," Octavia attempted, after having applied a light layer of makeup to the girl's face, "it's the most marvelous shade of gold, oh Katniss, if you could just _see _it, it'd look absolutely _superb _on you, shimmering jut like Cinna's eyeliner. It' made of this absolutely _divine _material, the one which makes you glitter like the stars and the chariots of the Tributes themselves. You're going to look absolutely _magnificent, _my dear!" Octavia squealed, as she slipped the dress onto the girl where her grey dress lay, discarded, around their feet.

"Now, go on now, go take a look." Octavia encouraged, hoping to erase the sadness that was Peeta's death in the young girl's mind.\

Needless to say, it was a futile attempt.

Slowly, Katniss looked at herself, straight and tall, arms by her side as she glanced at her reflection. Octavia _was _right, Cinna had definitely done well with this dress, the dress that sparkled like gold, and her hair and makeup _did _compliment the dress rather well. He'd even gone to the bother of attaching her precious Mockingjay pin to the chest, gleaming proudly against her breast as if it were a medal of some sorts. Almost, just almost, if she tried hard enough, she could pretend she was a different girl, a girl like Glimmer or Clove who had just won the Games, a girl who could forget about all the bad things that had happened, that had ruined her life. But then, when she and her reflection's eyes met, she knew - the instance grey met grey, the vacancy of her gaze reminded her that she was Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, the girl who survived when others deserved it so much more. In the end, she was just herself again.

And for that reason, Katniss felt far emptier than ever before.

"So, so?" Octavia inquired eagerly, "do you like it?"

Seconds stretched on as Katniss forced her lips to move.

In the end, she just nodded.

Instantly, Octavia sighed, slumping defeatedly. "I just don't understand, Katniss," Octavia moaned exasperatedly, "I tried everything - the dress, the hair, the cheerful conversation attempts! But still, you insist on being sad!" Octavia continued, well-intended but poorly-directed, "I don't get it!" Octavia wailed uselessly, storming out of the room, feeling terrible at having failed Cinna and the others in her "Cheer-up Katniss" campaign.

Meanwhile, Katniss continued her meaningless stare into her reflected sleet-grey eyes, searching for something and finding nothing.

_No, _she thought hollowly, _of course you wouldn't get it._

_No one does._

_..._

"Cato? Cato, did you hear what I just said?" the District 2's stylist called, snapping him out of his dazed stupor.

"Huh...? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about something," the blonde Career replied distractedly, head still in another place, "go on, continue."

As soon as he had said those words, Cato turned back to his initial position, staring vacantly out the window. All day, he had been having spontaneous periods of blankness, where he would randomly space out, whether he be watching the television or in the middle of a conversation. All day, his mind had been wandering a fair distance away from the real world, where he would escape into nothing but grey. _Grey_. The colour of his district's stone quarries, the colour of the sky on rainy days, the colour of Katniss' -

no. He refused to go there.

What was Katniss doing right now, in preparation of the post-Games interview? The crowning ceremony was just in a few hours, and already he was dressed, fitted in an ebony black suit with a gold rose as his boutonnière, gold details here and there further accentuating his beauty. His stylist, the irritatingly-doting lass, had insisted on gold being a recurring theme of his outfit, in order to suit the gold of his crown when it was bestowed on both him and her, the girl on fire -

no. He promised himself he wouldn't even _think _about her.

What was with him? Why did she haunt him so, occupying his every thought, his every dream, his every waking moment when he wasn't making a conscious effort not to think of her? Was it how irritating she was? How she had survived?

_This is insane, _Cato thought, clenching his fists tightly, _I'm losing it! All over that stupid, stupid girl..._

he had to get rid of her, and soon. The knowledge of her existence was getting almost too much to bear. Cato needed to kill again.

_And soon._

"Cato? Cato, are you even listening?" the edge of irritability of his stylist's voice snapped, shaking him once again from his mind-blank.

_Definitely soon, _Cato promised himself determinedly, dwelling on the face of Katniss Everdeen one last time before returning to his conversation.

...

"We're ready for you, Miss Everdeen," one of the game-staff called out, as Capitol-employed workers dashed from here and there. Rising from her seat, Katniss made her way slowly into the awaiting room where she would be deployed with her mentor and stylist-team before finally being presented up on stage. Under any other circumstances, right now Katniss would have been shaking like a leaf out of pure anxiety.

_But it's hard to when you can feel nothing at all._

The doors automatically opening, Katniss stepped into the room, expecting solitariness when she spotted the other inevitable figure in the room: Cato. As if unsuspecting of her presence, Cato whipped around fluidly, only to meet her in the eyes directly.

A terse silence ensued.

Tense, Cato's muscles relaxed only of the smallest fraction after a while, his eyes furiously tearing away from her own as they suddenly began to studiously focus on the plain expanse of the floor, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Katniss felt herself relax slightly as well as she saw this, finally turning to face the other direction whilst she warily estimated how dangerous her situation was. Being stuck in the room with the boy who was once driven only by the will to kill you was not exactly something she preferred finding herself in. Nonetheless, Katniss took her chances by turning her back on him.

Cato. He was dangerous; very dangerous indeed. Right from the beginning, anyone could determine how threatening he was; he alone had killed atleast four tributes from the Games, and he'd demonstrated what a danger he was right back in training when he'd hacked the dummies to pieces with his expert swordsmanship skills. he had a strict, disciplined upbringing as other Career children did too, and also possessed a certain charm and charisma according to the audience which made him even more susceptible to sponsorships. His raw power, calculating methods of hunting his prey and his lack of inhibitions at the thought of killing all clearly conveyed his unparalleled strength, and yet, somehow, that wasn't the most dangerous thing about him.

It was his unpredictability.

The last Games had demonstrated that; a completely different side of him, one Katniss wasn't sure she really wanted to familiarise herself with. _"Then do it," _his voice flitted ruthlessly into her ears, _"kill me."_

No! She didn't want to think about it, she refused to even _ponder _the idea of Cato having a different side other than his merciless killing machine one. He was Cato; Victor and murderer, who endeavoured in the deaths of fellow children without remorse or reluctance. _No matter how many times you have to tell yourself, _Katniss willed herself furiously, albeit still feeling rather distant, _you have to convince yourself that Cato is the bad guy. All that nice-guy stuff he pulled on you in the Arena was utter bull, a ploy for more fans and to make you suffer even more. Cato is a monster, Cato is a monster, Cato is a..._

"Katniss."

Suddenly, Katniss froze at the call of her name, dread inching up her spine as her body went rigid. Slowly, she willed herself to turn around, the fear dying down in her stomach, once again wiped clean and filled by a bitter nothingness.

"What?" she heard a small voice, so unlike her own, ask in response.

"I just want to let you know," the massive blonde said, in a rather disinterested, detached voice, that made Katniss all the more wary,

"that when this interview is all over, I will do it."

Katniss felt her heart pump as the pause between his words stretched on.

"All right you two, you're up in 5!" a voice called in the background.

_Five..._

What was he going to say?

_Four..._

What was taking him so long?

_Three..._

Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone?

_Two..._

Since when did she care so much about what Cato said?

_One..._

"I will do it, Katniss." he reiterated, eyes cold, as Caesar Flickerman's voice boomed in the background, calling them on stage.

"I _will _kill you."

Somewhere, in the woods, a Mockingjay stopped singing.


	4. Eglantine

**A/N: **I promised to be a good writer and I'm sorry I kept you all waiting for so long from chapter to three. Please enjoy, and review !

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething_

**Chapter Four: **Eglantine

x.x.x

_"I tremble_

_They're gonna eat me alive_  
><em>If I stumble<em>  
><em>They're gonna eat me alive<em>  
><em>Can you hear my heart<em>  
><em>Beating like a hammer<em>  
><em>Beating like a hammer<em>

_Help I'm alive _  
><em>My heart keeps beating like a hammer <em>  
><em>Hard to be soft<em>  
><em>Tough to be tender<em>  
><em>Come take my pulse the pace is on a runaway train<em>  
><em>Help I'm alive <em>  
><em>My heart keeps beating like a hammer <em>  
><em>Beating like a hammer..."<em>

_- Help, I'm Alive, _Metric

.

.

.

"So Katniss, tell me, what was going through your head when you realised that you'd won the Games?"

Emptiness. That was all that filled her mind ever since she'd gone on stage, ever since Cato had spoken those words so cruelly to her. She knew it had always been in his nature to be a sadistic and sick, twisted bastard, but this time she felt it was too much.

Blank.

Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe this was all she needed to finally convince herself Cato was the bad guy, that those last moments she had shared with Cato's change of personality and his willingness to die in the Arena by her hand were nothing more than all part of his cruel, sick charade. It was meant to be a good thing, confirmation for something that had been plaguing her mind and thoughts every time she looked at the tall blonde boy, but still she felt no inner-peace or satisfaction.

Something was wrong.

"Katniss? Katniss, are you here with us?"

Dazed, Katniss' lashes fluttered in surprise before her eyes were drawn onto Caesar Flickerman's expectant face. She was in the middle of an _interview, _what on Earth was she doing, philosophising on the enigma that was Cato, who she in no way, shape or form, wanted to be acquainted with? _Get your head in the game, Katniss, _the young girl told herself steadily, before diverting her full attention to the interview.

"I'm sorry, you were saying...?"

"I said, 'what was going through you head when you realised you had won the Games?'"

Oh. The Games. Of course. Well, she _had _been too busy revelling in her grief and fury of Peeta's death and Cato's reaction to her threats to kill him, but she decided to remain silent on the matter, clasping her hands firmly in her lap. The whole of Panem was watching. She couldn't make a fool of herself.

She couldn't make a fool of herself in front of Cato.

"Well," Katniss replied, voice tight and controlled, as she sat upright in her brilliantly-shimmering gown of gold (_which _Caesar and the crowd could not help but fawning over amiably), trying to avoid the fact that Cato was seated right next to her, a breath's distance away from touching her let alone _killing _her, "a lot of things were going through my mind. Many, many things." _Like Peeta's death, Peeta's death, why I was still alive, Cato's idiocy... _"But," Katniss continued in a level-tone, steeling a stoic expression as she willed herself not to break in front of them, in front of all of them, in front of _him_, "the point is I had won and it was all over. Everything had come to an end." _Like Peeta's life, like my happiness, like my sanity..._

Right on cue, Caesar nodded with a stern frown, as if in understanding. "I see, I see," the charismatic Capitol-interviewer nodded, whilst Katniss and Cato watched him from the comfort of their seat. Right then and there, Katniss wanted to do nothing more than slap the blue-haired eccentric, to wipe off that stupid expression of understanding on his face at her ambiguous response. _No, you don't understand, _Katniss seethed, fury surging in her as she felt more and more detached and hateful towards them all, towards the world itself, _no one understands what it's like to see a little girl die, to kill innocent children, to see your true love die and ultimately end his life by your own bloody, bloody hands, to have to see yourself and others turn into monsters simply for survival just for the sick entertainment of the wealthy and powerful... _subconsciously, Katniss' fingers clenched in her lap as she steadied her quivers of rage, _no one understands what it's like to have your life shattered, to be ripped and broken apart... _

_no one..._

"Are you all right, Katniss my dear?" Caesar's gentle voice and sudden comforting touch broke in, pulling her from the dark thoughts she was swirling in. "You seem to be awfully-unwell," he remarked, touching her forehead, as if to check her temperature, "are you sure you're all fine and dandy?"

_Control, Katniss, control... _"Of course," Katniss replied, voice devoid of any of the fury she had conjured up earlier, her voice taking on the tight, emotionless tone it had dressed itself in earlier, "just haven't been getting enough sleep, that's all..."

At this, Caesar nodded once more, almost graciously. "I understand," he said, and at this Katniss felt the white hot heat surge through her veins again, "you've been going through a hard time lately, what with the stress of a Victory Tour and recuperating after the vicious Tournament and what-not... I'm sure the last thing you'd want to do right now is be up in front of everyone..." Caesar conversed dramatically, voice eliciting both the interest and attention of the audience, "but I'd like to let you know what you're doing right now is very brave and courageous, and we commend you for it. Especially after..."

the trailing off of uncertainty and drama made Katniss' heart stop.

_Please, don't make him mention it... please don't... no..._

"Especially after Peeta's death," Caesar nodded, evoking a collective sigh of despair from the audience.

There. He'd done it. He had to go and mention it.

Instantly, Katniss felt the swirl of images and nightmares claw back into her conscious, suffocating and smothering her furiously.

_Peeta... Peeta... Peeta..._

_"You didn't save me Katniss, you didn't save me..."_

"Katniss..."

_No! _

"Katniss?" Caesar's voice entered again, after what seemed like centuries of Peeta's voice and face, "Katniss, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I can tell you're obviously very upset about it. I mean, who wouldn't be?" Caesar added, the audience nodding their heads and mumbling words of agreement in reply. What on Earth was going on with her? Why couldn't she move her lips, why couldn't she say anything? _Move, Katniss! _a voice screamed shrilly from inside, _move!_

But she didn't.

"Take your time, take your time..." Caesar whispered soothingly, patting her on the back in an act of consolation as she sat frozen in her numbness. A_ll for the cameras, _Katniss could practically hear him say, as he continued to ease her up, _the audience will love eating this in, 'Tragedy of the Star-Crossed Lovers from District 12.'_

It made her sick to her stomach.

But still, she refused to move.

Suddenly, Katniss felt a new pair of eyes pin to her, intense and unyielding. Slowly, Katniss eyes' followed the vector of the stranger's eyesight until she reached a familiar icy blue: Cato's. There he sat, the pair of them a bare centimetres apart, his eyes burning into her eyes.

_Move, _they seemed to say, sharp and penetrating, emotionless and unyielding, studying her so intensely that it seemed as if they were burning into her soul itself. Gradually, Katniss felt a warmth sweep through her soul, stretching throughout her body like hot fingers lingering on her flesh itself; not the warmth she felt whenever she had kissed Peeta, or thought of his kind words and undying love for her, but a heat that threatened to consume and engulf anything it touched, angry and powerfully-vivid. It was a warmth that threatened to incinerate her very being into ash, that could burn down Panem itself if it continued to grow.

It was her fury.

Her anger and hate towards the boy known as Cato, and his unfortunate blue eyes which bitterly reminded her of the boy whom she had loved.

She refused to look weak in front of him, no matter how broken she was.

_Move._

She did.

"Katniss?" Caesar asked worryingly, as she sat up straight, relaxing her hands in her lap again as she willed herself to look the Capitol personality straight in the eyes. Slowly, she took a deep breath in.

_You are the Girl on Fire, _Katniss reminded herself wearily,

_even if the fire does not exist any more, you must find a way to keep going._

Even if it was so hard.

"It's..." Katniss began, taking tight reigns over her voice once more,

"...not something I really want to talk about."

There. She'd said it. It wasn't what the audience had probably wanted, but it was good enough for her. Feeling as if a heavy burden had been relieved from her shoulders, albeit rather temporarily (for there were so many other heavier things that weighed upon them, so much that it broke her down), Katniss felt her fingers clench once before uncoiling. Now, she wouldn't have to discuss it.

It was good enough.

For now.

"Thank you," Caesar whispered soothingly to her, as if she were an old friend, as the heat died down once more and Cato's eyes left her form, "and I'll let you know that you're doing rather a splendid job at this. Please do not think we think rather poorly of you now for refusing to talk to us about it. We wouldn't dare think any less of you, especially after all _you've_ been through," Caesar said quietly, whilst the audience sighed in sympathy for Katniss and the tragedy that was her life.

"But just one last question, how do you _feel_? Are you glad it's all over, proud to have won for your District, or elated you won? Anything at all."

Katniss thought for a moment. This time, this time she could answer, without a moment's hesitation or a bid to avoid talking about her real feelings.

This time, her words were all of sincerity and utter straight-forwardness.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Caesar reiterated, as if surprised, probably expecting another closed-off response or another answer that would get the audience tear-jerking.

"Nothing," Katniss repeated once more, this time determined and set in her choice of words as the hollow wretchedness of her insides painfully resonated with the statement of her feelings.

_Nothing._

A thick silence permeated the air, not awkward nor uncomfortable but the sort of silence that got people thinking and feeling. For Katniss, this silence was a symbol of the finality and termination of her interview time.

Now, it was Cato's.

"As for you Cato," Caesar picked up, fluidly swapping from heart-wrenching sob story to a lively conversation the next, "what was your reaction to your Victory?" Caesar addressed the blonde handsomely-dressed boy, whilst Katniss leaned back in her seat, relieved it was over. "Obviously, as a Career, the triumph of winning must have been phenomenal: the culmination of all your hard work and efforts that you went through your entire life. How does it _f__eel_?" Caesar asked, emphasising the last word in particular.

Katniss inwardly snorted. Caesar Flickerman, talking to them of all people, a empty, broken girl and a sadistic killing-machine about their _feelings._

It was almost like going to a mad-house.

"Fantastic, Caesar," Cato replied smoothly, cries of support and jubilation erupting from certain patches of the audience, Cato having the grace to wave at them charmingly in response, "it was amazing. Just knowing _I _had won, that I was going to be joining the long legacy of Victors from District 2... it was sensational." Cato answered, Katniss feeling that same flicker of heatfrom before arise inside of her before burning out once more whilst his words drifted into her ears.

"That's what I like to hear!" Caesar exclaimed enthusiastically, whilst the crowd burst into applause and whoops of enthusiasm, "but tell me," Caesar continued, whilst the noise had died down, "what was the real reason for your actions in the last part of the Games, when you and Katniss here were pitted against one another in a battle to the death? What was running through your mind when you practically put your life on the line all for Katniss' taking? Why'd you do it?"

Now _that _was the real question on everyone's minds. Even Katniss could not contain her interest in his response. Fully-invested in his response, Katniss allowed herself to study the monster known as Cato's face, eagerly waiting for his reply as the audience watched with bated breaths. As her eyes roamed his face, other questions arose in the District 12 girl's heart: like what was Cato like when he was young? Was he always a monster? What was he like around his friends? What was his family like? Did he have a family? Did he even have a nice girlfriend waiting for him back in his own District? The last question made her flush with stupidity for even thinking about it, and yet the curiosity lingered. Who _was _Cato really? All Katniss had ever known was the Cato that had killed what was precious to her and had destroyed everything pure in the world. The Cato, who was indifferent to killing.

She also knew the Cato who had been ready to accept death from her hands.

_Cato is a monster, _Katniss reminded herself, her gaze turning steely, _Cato is a monster._

_There isn't anything else you need to know about him._

"Why I did it, huh...?" Cato began, slightly less confident than before, as Katniss' eyes stayed pinned to his face.

_An answer, give me an answer..._

And then, Cato's eyes shifted and locked onto her's.

_Blue met grey._

And, for just one, single moment, time itself seemed to stop.

.

.

.

"Why I did it, huh?" Cato mumbled distantly, trying to keep a calm face as his mind raced for possible answers.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He knew this question would come up. He just _knew _it. Back in the Arena, the reason they'd both managed to be elected as Victors was due to this: but he didn't know why. He knew the Capitol loved their drama, the sick and twisted bastards that they were, but that wasn't why he did it.

So why did he?

It wasn't because he was feeling particularly merciful or compassionate, nor did it have anything to do with any so-called "feelings" for that stupid Katniss girl, whom he was wishing more and more by the minute he had simply killed now. So _why_? What had made him change his ways so drastically? What had made _him_, Cato Stone, vicious and blood-thirsty Career, suddenly decide to spare the life of some wretched, broken girl who he had been tenaciously hoping to kill and make suffer during the entire Games?

Why did he do it? Even if he'd thought about it the night before, when he couldn't sleep, the reasons he'd come up with seemed all the more ridiculously absurd.

_Why?_

_Grey._

Her eyes.

The way they reflected _nothing_, reflected how hopelessly _lost _she had become with the absence of Loverboy.

All done by the hands of him: Cato Stone.

His treacherous, traitorous, bloody hands.

_You killed the fire in them, remember? _a voice echoed in his mind, _you killed the fire in Katniss Everdeen's eyes._

_You put the fire out._

_You _ruined _her._

_I don't care, _Cato told himself angrily, _I don't care if I took some fucking 'fire' out of her or even if I tore off her bloody limbs! She's nothing!_

_Nothing!_

_Katniss Everdeen means nothing to me!_

_Nothing._

_Just like her eyes._

Empty, hollow, blank. Grey as sleet and as emotionless as the coal that the men from her District mined for a living.

Katniss Everdeen had been reduced to a pitiful shell of herself, the only proof of her existence being the tangible body that she possessed, a frail and wretched existence filled with nothingness and self-loathing.

She was _nothing._

And it was all his fault.

And, for some reason, Cato felt something horrible pang in his chest.

_I don't care, I don't care! _Cato told himself angrily, trying not to let the torrid of inner-conflict he was experiencing right now reflect on his face,

_I don't care, I don't care... !_

but the horrible pang in his chest told him otherwise.

And for that reason, Cato convinced himself that he hated Katniss Everdeen all the more.

"So, Cato," Caesar asked one more time, face pensive and awaiting, "tell me: why?"

Cato closed his eyes once, as if to steady himself.

_Forget about the grey, forget about that stupid girl who you're going to kill later on..._

he knew his answer:

"Because who doesn't love a good show for a finale? It was all for the crowd."

Once again, Cato felt that horrible pang slam against his chest once more.

_I don't care, _he thought as he forced a grin on his face for the audience,

_I don't care._

He felt it again, and Cato was certain that he had never felt a pain so grand.

This time, the pang was almost unbearable.

.

.

.

"I... never thought about it that way," Caesar confessed after a moment's silence, whilst Cato leaned back in his seat, looking smug and oddly-cool. Inwardly, Katniss felt a stab of hatred towards him, as she fantasized the idea of slapping that expression off herself.

_Well, that explains it, _the dark-haired girl thought conceitedly.

_It was all for heightening the drama. _

_That sick and manipulative bastard._

"Yep, well, that was my intention," Cato replied coolly, Katniss never feeling so fervently angry in her whole life. _All for the drama? _she seethed vehemently, _he did all that crap, all those twisted words about how he was willing to let me kill him without any resistance, all for the Capitol audience to enjoy their sick entertainment more?_

He's...

_despicable._

_Truly despicable._

_Unforgivable._

Now, Katniss was furious. Furious not only at the blonde whose jugular she wanted to literally rip from his very beating body, but at herself. _I'm _such _an idiot! And to think, I'd actually entertained the thought of Cato having more side than his manipulative, sick self. I knew it!_

Cato is nothing more than a monster.

_He's a monster._

_And I was the fool for thinking for one minute otherwise._

There she sat, stirring in her silent humiliation and fury, dressed immaculately in her gold dress and tirelessly-applied makeup. _Keep cool, Katniss, _she told herself for the umpteenth time that day, _let the emptiness take over, get rid of all that anger for later..._

but, for some odd reason, she couldn't.

The hollowness would not take over once more.

Katniss Everdeen had learnt to _feel _again.

And it was all Cato's doing.

Albeit, the feelings were nothing short of hatred and murderous rage, but for the first time in a while Katniss felt good.

The anger was better than nothing.

And Katniss was willing to cling to it as long as it took until it subsided into bitter emptiness once more.

"It's just interesting, you know," Caesar continued, almost nonchalantly, as Katniss focused her eyes on the clenched fists settled in the golden fabric that was her lap, "because there' been a lot of speculation otherwise. Why, it's practically the _reason _you two are alive today!"

Katniss blinked, momentarily displaced from all her anger. _The reason?_

"The reason?" Cato mirrored, obviously just as caught off-guard and surprised as she was.

"Yes yes," Caesar nodded, a sly smirk playing on his lips, "the reason."

_What could it be? _Katniss wondered, subconsciously leaning in in expectancy and a sudden eagerness, suddenly aware of all thoe scandalous murmuring and whispers exchanged between the ridiculously-dressed Capitol audience.

_What was the reason?_

"The reason," Caesar began dramatically, Cato and Katniss never feeling more entwined in something than ever before, "was due to 'popular demand'."

At this, Katniss blinked naively, whilst Cato's body mysteriously turned rigid in its seat. As if on cue, several of the audience burst into secretive sniggers and chuckles.

_"Doesn't she know..."_

"_It's all Panem's been talking about after the Games...!"_

"What a dramatic twist to the story..."

"...oblivious..."

"... so lucky..."

"I'm sorry," Katniss suddenly piped up, drawing the attention of all in the room, "but what exactly do you mean by 'popular demand'?"

Caesar chuckled whilst Cato did not look happy. At all.

"Oh Katniss, my dear Katniss," Caesar sighed as he patted her arm, as if she were a small and confused child, "for all your charm and beauty, I must say you're rather on the oblivious side, if I do say so myself." Caesar chuckled once more, whilst several members of the audience burst into fits of laughter.

"What?" Katniss asked, agitated and thoroughly confused by then, "what is the reason?"

_"Why don't you ask Cato yourself, Lovergirl? Or should I call him 'loverboy', by now?" _a voice from the audience called, eliciting further laughter and guffaws from the crowd and Caesar himself.

_'Loverboy'...? _Katniss thought, perplexed and disheartened, _but that's what they called Peeta. Wait a minute... Cato... 'loverboy'..._

_what... _

Desperate, Katniss whipped her head around to stare at Cato's face, which was as stoic as stone as his eyes stayed transfixed to the clenched fists that laid in his own lap. As much as she hated him right now, not even the pure contempt she had for her fellow Victor could combat the vivid confusion that was set in her own heart.

_Cato...?_

"Let me break it down for you," Caesar finally stated, after a good few seconds-worth of laughter, "when the Capitol saw Cato appearing vulnerable and willing to die by your hand, they _loved _it. Lapped up every minute of it. We all loved it, I mean, who knew you were such a romantic at heart, Cato my dear boy?" Caesar explained amiably, elbowing a blank-faced Cato in the rib as a gesture of good will. "We all loved it.

And let's just say, we loved it _so much _that we wanted to see _more_ of it."

Suddenly, it hit her, like a ton of bricks. Instantly, Katniss felt the confusion gnawing away at her all fade away. Even the anger subsided into something entirely different.

Into emptiness once more.

_Hollow. Again._

_Why would they... even after Peeta's death, even after all the things I've gone through, because of_ him, _they'd still... _

"Oh, I think she's got it," Caesar winked, smiling his dazzling smile, "ladies and gentlemen, I think it's time we make this story official:

the new, '_Star-crossed lovers from the 74th Hunger Games!_'"

The deafening sound of applause and cheers erupted from all around her, and yet Katniss felt as if she were in another place, far, far away.

Never before had Katniss Everdeen ever felt so spitefully alone.

"How about a kiss from the both of you?" Caesar winked, oblivious to either of their feelings, "or, are you two both still too shy?"

_They did it, _Katniss thought emptily, whilst Cato sat wordlessly right next to her,

_they've destroyed it._

_The last bit of light._

It was the last time Katniss Everdeen would ever feel the tiniest bit of hope in the world.

At least for a long, long time.


	5. Lobelia

**A/N: SO MANY REVIEWS! THANKYOU SO MUCH ! Y-YOU GUYS ... ! MAKING ME CRY HERE LEGIT TEARS DEFGRWEVGRWEGi9eriwefweg !**

**BEST FANDOM EVER !**

Thanks for the reviews n_n ! They were really nice and made me uber happy! I love writing this story, and I genuinely think I can and will finish it within this year, instead of leaving it on hiatus (like lots of my other stories lol). Please review, and enjoy!

If I get lots of reviews again, I'm going to be so happy! Thanks everyone, and please don't stop reviewing!

Sorry if this chapter is not really any good, I was just trying to advance the plot, nothing interesting. **BE WARNED**; next chapter _will _have **unaccountable and copious amounts of development and dare say even 'fluff' between the two** (well as much as the two can possible have anyhow...) we will finally get our first real dose of the couple, so be ready :) I'm actually really excited to write and release the next chapter to y'all!

*btw I may not have conveyed Snow's intentions regarding the 'star-crossed lovers' fully. This will be elaborated on in an author's note at the end of the chapter, should one feel so inclined to read it.

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething_

**Chapter Five: **Lobelia

x.x.x

_"Do you believe you're missin' out  
>That everything good is happening somewhere else?<br>But with nobody in your bed  
>The night's hard to get through<em>

_And I will die all alone_  
><em>And when I arrive I won't know anyone<em>

_Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again_  
><em>So what did you do those three days you were dead?<em>  
><em>'cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend.<em>

_Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,_  
><em>I'm a little bit scared of what comes after<em>  
><em>Do I get the gold chariot?<em>  
><em>Do I float through the ceiling?<em>

_Do I divide and fall apart?_  
><em>'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark."<em>

_- Jesus Christ, _Brand New

_._

_._

_._

After the interview, and Caesar's stunning revelation about the whole of the Capitol's theory on her and Cato's supposed 'budding' romance, everything to Katniss had become disillusioning and distant. The noise, the cheers, the smiles of painted, genetically-altered faces... all staring, _staring_, pinning her to her fate, twisting her and suffocating her with their treachery and deception.

She did not like it one bit.

_"Katniss..." _Haymitch had started, as soon as she had felt her body move like lead off the stage, the gold crown heavy on her head, _"I'm so, so sorry... I didn't know... I mean... I did, but..."_

but she didn't care. Pushing past Haymitch and the others without another word, Katniss slipped out from their presence, instead seeking the familiar, yet oh-so solitary confinements of her room. The door auto-locked as soon as she had swept in, Katniss collapsed onto her bed, silent and without a single noise escaping her lips.

_Torture._

That was what the Capitol was doing to her, what the _world _was doing to her, tearing her apart and ripping her into shreds until she was Katniss Everdeen no more. Now, she had become a vessel for life, empty and detached, and ready to accept the now comforting embrace of death at any minute now. Before, the old Katniss would have called such a personality 'weak' or even 'idiotic', but things had changed a lot since then.

The old Katniss Everdeen was gone.

No tears escaped from her hollow, grey eyes - her incapacity to hold feelings anymore as well as her promise to Peeta forbid her from doing so. So Katniss did the next best thing.

She closed her eyes, and awaited for the sweet oblivion that was sleep.

_"I _will_ kill you," _the words echoed cruelly within her mind, spiky blonde hair and cold blue eyes drifting in and out as slumber took her into its sweet caress.

Somehow, now, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

.

.

.

"The _fuck, _did that come from?" Cato snarled, as he slammed his fist into the wall, on a rampage bent for destruction and _crushing _anything in his path, specifically the stupid bastards who had come up with such a notion as romance' motivating his actions back in the Arena. The large boy was furious_, _and the pure animosity coursing through his veins was proof enough of his very blatant emotions. Unfortunately, having deemed bashing the audience into a bloody pulp a not so wise decision, the wall was the next best thing, Cato transmitting both Caesar's and the audience's faces (not to mention Katniss Everdeen's) onto it as he projected his _very _expressive rage.

Needless to say, the wall was not looking too good.

"Look, I know you're mad - " Enobaria started calmly, arms folded.

"You _know _I'm mad?" Cato growled, whipping his head around angrily to glare at her, "no shit, sherlock! Now tell me, how the _fuck _did you allow this to happen?"

He was mad. No, that was an understatement, he was absolutely _livid. _The very idea of being secretly and madly pining over the skinny stick of a girl Katniss from 12 was absolutely horrendous, not to mention totally and utterly false! He was _Cato Stone_, Victor from District 2, who all the girls back in his District fawned over whilst all the boys either wanted to be or wanted to absolutely stay away from, lest they incur his almighty wrath. Cato cared for no one, especially not some girl who was being all cry-baby over her dead boyfriend! Katniss Everdeen meant _nothing _to him! Nothing! Why couldn't anyone see that?

Despite his rough voice and obvious agitation, Enobaria remained surprisingly calm, a deep frown set on her repugnantly-hideous face whilst Cato felt the anger surge through his veins, threatening to unleash the beast. After a few more seconds, Enobaria finally spoke.

"Look, I understand that this is not an ideal situation for you," Enobaria started once more, her tone patient and leveled, "but you need to think about this. The whole of the Capitol, no, the whole of _Panem," _she corrected, "even President Snow are supporting you and that Firegirl's 'relationship'. You'll be the most famous Victor of all time, assuming you don't mind sharing the spotlight with the District 12 bitch," Enobaria added, as Cato felt his muscles relax as logic and rationality took over emotion and anger. "Anyhow, with Snow endorsing this relationship personally, I don't see how you could possibly refuse taking up on this chance," the past-District 2 Victor stated, rather matter-of-factly, the younger Victor obviously caught off-guard by the prospect of the President _himself _expressing support behind the mock-romance, "Snow is a powerful man who is used to getting anything he wants. Get in his way or refuse him, and you're a dead man."

"You are indeed correct, Ms Enobaria," a new voice suddenly spoke up, permeating the conversation with a certain chilliness that Cato could not help but shiver against. Out of the shadows stepped the man in question, Enobaria and Cato's lips falling silent as soon as he had made himself present. President Coriolanus Snow.

Their 'beloved' president.

There he stood, as impeccably dressed as ever, not a crinkle of fabric out of place as he stood there, tall and proud, white hair as perfectly styled as always and serpentine eyes glinting with an unexpected edge that made Cato feel cold and clammy inside. His lips, as big and grotesque as ever, were pursed in utter solemnity, while the pure white crisp signature rose he wore as his boutonnière was ever present as always. Snow was, in short, an intimidating presence to behold, for almost anyone who knew his name.

Cato was one of those people.

"President Snow," Enobaria suddenly said, instantly sweeping to her knees which Cato followed in suit after a few clueless seconds. Cato had never felt his heart pump louder. The man... he was like a _snake. _Always dangerous, always ready to strike. It was like being suspended in a never-ending suspense with him. "Rise, you two," Snow remarked carelessly, twirling his cane in his hand whilst the two Victors rose to their feet without a word, "now is not a time for such formalities."

"President Snow, sir..." the older woman started, only to be hushed by the raising of the snow-haired man's hand. Cato had never felt more sick in his life; the president had done practically _nothing _yet, and already his head was spinning and his insides plummeting. _Must be that damned smell of his, _Cato convinced himself firmly, eyes turning icily-hard, _smells like blood, the twisted old bastard._

"Now, now," Snow suddenly spoke, his voice as strong and majestic as always, yet eerily quiet, "I'm not here to tarry or trouble you both. Rather, I'm here to see the young fellow here. Cato Stone, am I correct?" Snow inquired, clasping his hand on Cato's broad shoulder whilst the newly-crowned Victor could barely keep himself from throwing up. The stench of the blood and sickening sweetness of the rose was dizzying, making his head all misty whilst he struggled to remain firm and on two legs. _Don't throw up, don't throw up... _

"Yes sir. It's an honour to meet you," Cato said, forcing himself to look the man in the eye, finding immense difficulty in doing so despite the fact that the same man had stood a few millimetres before him as he crowned Cato as Victor just a little while ago. When he did, Cato just wanted to cringe and pull away - his eyes were terrifying, as if genetically-altered in order to retain a certain snake-like quality. Nonetheless, Cato remained firm, unyielding and unflinching.

_I can't show my weakness._

"Yes... it's a pleasure to meet you too, strapping young lad that you are," Snow said, finally releasing the blonde from his grip and turning his back on them, "it's almost a surprise you don't already have a nice young girl waiting for you back home. But that's not what I came here to talk about. I have something else on the agenda I'd like to... discuss," Snow confessed rather ominously, Cato breaking into a light sweat as he realised what it was.

_Oh no... for fuck's sake, not that..._

"That supposed romance between you and that District 12 girl seems to be sparking _quite _the scandal, wouldn't you agree?" Snow began, twirling his cane carelessly as he gazed out the window and into a stellar view of the Capitol itself, "it's been _all _that the Capitol, no, _all _of Panem's been discussing."

Cato felt his insides grow cold, all the heat that had surged through his veins from his earlier bout of anger long gone.

For the first time, he was afraid.

"Ground-breaking thing, it is. Why, I believe it's the first ever genuine inter-district relationship ever recorded in the history of Panem. Isn't that right, Enobaria?" he asked idly, whilst the female Victor's face remained firm and unyielding.

"Of course, Mr President," Enobaria replied tightly, as quick as a whip, "there's never been evidence of such a thing to exist until now."

"Yes, funny thing it is..." Snow commented distantly, as he fidgeted with the white rose pinned to his suit, "_'love'_. Sometimes, it takes a long time to grow, and when it does, it's hard to root out, like a weed." Snow explained, still turned away from them. "But then, there's the other kind of love," Snow continued, Cato confused as to where he was going with the whole conversation, "the kind that just springs up out of nowhere, but is just as tenacious. Like a weed as well," Snow added, finally clasping his hands behind his back whilst a brief silence settled in.

"But tell me, Mr Stone, would you say you and that District 12 girl's relationship is like that of the slow-growing weed, the result of a gradual gravitation towards one another? Or are you like the other weed, the spontaneous, hard to control one, which is just as tenacious on thriving as its predecessor?" Snow inquired, finally pinning Cato with his penetratingly-terrifying gaze.

Cato hesitated, before answering. "Sir?"

"You see, Mr Stone, my sources tell me that this relationship you and Ms Everdeen have suddenly began is not genuine at all, almost an... _overnight_ thing," Snow explained, Enobaria tight-lipped and Cato rigid. "Why, you could say the whole story is completely fabricated."

Cato felt his pulse stop.

"But, whatever its origins, this... _romance, _has been drawing people in, making them hunger and thirst for more," Snow continued, voice harsh and clipped, "you could almost say it's serving as a rather... _useful _distraction from other, far more... _depressing, _matters."

Now Cato was certain he had no idea at all where this was going.

In all honesty, he was just _sick _of playing games.

Other people's games.

"Sir," Cato started wearily, "what is it that you want?"

"What I _want_, Mr Stone," Snow's voice suddenly boomed, thunderous and strong, "is a story. A believable one. One that will draw the attention of the _whole __nation. _I don't care how much you love or hate that Katniss girl, all _ I _am concerned with is selling a story to the people, no, the _nation_. What I don't want is the people to lose an interest and return their minds to far more unpleasant things.

What _I _need, Mr Stone, in essence, is a _distraction_."

_Distraction? _Cato and Enobaria thought in unison, pondering the complications of Snow's proposal. Just _what _was going on?

And why was he and Katniss involved?

"Sir... I don't understand." Even if Cato had developed a sharp wit and cutting intelligence in his time, the motives behind Snow's plan still perplexed him, as vexing and ambiguous as it was.

It was enough to make him feel nervous.

"Perhaps I'm approaching this at the wrong angle," Snow contemplated, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps the rumours _are _true, that those tales of you pining over the Girl on Fire were completely false. Then, if that's true," Snow breathed, Cato all the more drawn in by the complicated plot unravelling all around him, the integrity of his and Katniss' true relationship coming into light, "perhaps I can suggest an alternative.

A, _solution, _if you will."

Cato gulped, nodding speechlessly. As soon as Snow had seen this, the elderly President motioned for Enobaria to leave. "I'd like some time alone with the young man, if you don't mind," the sickly-sweet smelling authority figure waved, Enobaria bowing once and exiting the room swiftly, not at all daring to make eye contact with the newly-crowned Victor. The situation only truly weighed in on Cato when he heard the door slam unceremoniously.

Now it was just him and Snow.

_Trapped in a room with a snake._

"Let me ask you a question, my young man," Snow started abruptly after he was sure Enobaria was gone, "in all truthfulness, how much do you really care for that girl from District 12? Katniss Everdeen, am I correct?" Snow inquired. pacing around the room whilst Cato remained static, stalking the man with his eyes warily as he kept a cool distance. "What are your true feelings for her?"

_My..._

_feelings?_

In all honesty, Cato didn't really know any more, nor did he really want to think about it. The past few days, thinking about Katniss Everdeen had led to nothing more than a jumbled mess of a head, mysterious pains in his chest and empty promises that he just wanted to run away from yet fulfil at the same time. Acquainting himself with his feelings really wasn't something Cato looked forward to nor particularly indulged in, but when he saw how pensive and eagerly Snow looked at him, fingertips touching in waiting, Cato knew this wasn't something he could refuse to talk about. Inwardly, he took a deep breath.

It began.

Truthfully, there was a large, _very _large, blatantly aggressive part that made him certain he hated her, made him certain he despised her very being from her agile hunter reflexes to the way she could still tease you from up a tree when you were _this _close to pushing her to an imminent death, but there were other parts as well. Inside, Cato still felt the blood-thirst beast that screamed for Katniss' bloody, broken body ever since the Games had began rear its head ferociously, desperately demanding and crawling away at him from the inside. The other was the just as equally-proportioned side of him that cared nothing for her, viewing her as nothing more than lowly District 12-scum, unworthy to even be in the presence of a true Victor and warrior like him. If she died, he didn't care. If she lived, he didn't care.

She was nothing.

_Nothing, _Cato reminded himself firmly, as if doing so would fix all his problems,

_she's nothing._

Long ago, Cato was certain that was all he felt about her.

Now, he was not so sure.

Try as he might, he couldn't deny it. There was something about her, something he couldn't quite place, that made him do nothing but _think _about her. _Obsess_ over her. It was like every time he swiveled his head around to look at her, he felt something. Something new, and different. Not love (God forbid he ever engage in such a degrading thing as that), nor even the tiniest hint of affection, but almost a sense of _sadness. _It didn't make sense and it was pretty screwed up, but it was true.

Cato felt for her.

And when he saw those eyes, grey and so full of life, so full of _fire _one moment and suddenly dead and soulless the next, it _moved _him. _Changed _him. All of a sudden, Cato would be reminded of those horrible, stabbing heavy pangs in his chest, and it took everything it could for him to convince himself he was not having a heart problem. When he'd said what he said before the Interview and proclaimed his lies during their session with Caesar, the pangs had never felt more agonizing. It was nothing he couldn't handle, but the pain... it was far different than any before. Far worse than the cuts of his Mentor's sword into his flesh, far more painful than the time his mother had slapped him so hard he swore he saw stars... the pain...

was the worst he'd ever felt.

_All because I saved her, _Cato cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth in a subtle manner so that the President would not pick up on it,

_if only I hadn't... none of this shit would have ever have happened..._

yet, it had happened. He _had _saved her.

And it was all because of his stupid, idiotic, god-damn_ feelings._

_How do I feel? _Cato wondered, _how do I feel...?_

_Fucking messed up, that's how I feel..._

"Well, Cato?" Snow egged on, eyes sharp and penetrating.

Cato schooled his face into a brave mask of stoicism, almost as if he were back in that Interview with Caesar.

And Katniss.

"That girl," Cato spoke,articulating every word without a hint of the anguish he felt inside, "means _nothing _to me. Absolutely nothing. And if it's were at all possible," the blonde ex-Tribute declared, Snow blinking in surprise at how cold the temperature around them had become, "I would do anything, _anything _at all to get rid of her." Cato finished harshly, eyes as hard as stone and steel, gaze murderous and lethal.

A brief, tense silence permeated the atmosphere, as Snow watched Cato's face thoughtfully whilst Cato's expression kept its icily stoic demeanour. Then, slowly, Cato observed the old man's horribly-unnatural lips stretch across his creased face, a smile so malevolent and sinister that Cato swore that it was the stuff of the devil's domain itself. Still, Cato persisted on his icily stoic demeanour, the words he had just spoken seemingly cementing the coolness of his facade.

"Good, Cato, good..." Snow mumbled, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "then perhaps you will prefer my alternate suggestion after all...

'what I need my dear boy, is a _distraction,_ as I have mentioned earlier. You see there are many problems in our country right now, many, _many _distressing problems," Snow sighed rather tirelessly, "and the only way I can possibly eradicate such problems is by distracting the masses, giving them something else to feed off whilst I attend to certain 'inadequacies', if you will, present in our Districts right now. Not necessarily a love story, as you have established yourself to be quite opposed to," Snow smiled lightly, noting the boy's still hardened expression, "but perhaps something more exciting. Something the masses can _really _mourn over and occupy themselves with for weeks, no, even months to come.

The death of one of their prized Victors."

Instantly, Cato knew. Cato knew what the President was implying, even wholeheartedly endorsing.

And he knew that the Victor left standing would unimaginably be him.

_He wants me to kill._

_He wants me to kill Katniss Everdeen!_

Silence.

And then, the sealing of a promise that would later become Cato's burden and cross.

He looked up straight into Snow's eyes, and without a moment's reluctance, spoke, his lips sealing his fate and ultimately Katniss' own.

"Then I will not hesitate. If it's what the President desires, I will not hesitate to do it.

I've said it once and I'll say it again." Cato stated, without a hint of remorse or reluctance. Slowly, slowly, Cato felt it grow within him, rising and stretching its wings within his chest, threatening to burst, to take full-flight...

"I _will _do it, that _is _a promise.

I _will _kill Katniss Everdeen."

As smug as a cat that had caught its prey, Snow finally arose, clearly pleased with how the situation had panned out.

"Good," he said.

And then, Snow was gone.

_I _will _kill her. Tonight._

For reasons unknown, the pain in his chest was for more unbearable than ever before.

Cato didn't care.

.

.

.

Katniss lay curled up in bed, twisted in her sheets as soft chokes broke out amongst the silent emptiness enveloping the room. It was dark - but she couldn't see that nor tell. Far too submerged in a world of terror and agony, Katniss let out a soft cry as her mind was once again assaulted by images and voices she didn't want to nor couldn't face. _No, _Katniss thought desperately, caught in an endless stream of torture that was her nightmare, writhing pitifully beneath the cover of her blanket, _no no no, please, not this again..._

_Peeta, please, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, Peeta, please, please come back, no, don't leave - !_

"_No_...!" Katniss subconsciously cried, thrashing restlessly as her fingers clenched her pillow firmly, body coiling into a tight ball. Again, she was stuck in a nightmare; in the meadow, where Rue lay smiling covered in flowers, dancing amongst the splashes of yellow dandelions sprouting across the endless sea of green that was the expanse of the peaceful fields, Mockingjays singing their merrily beautiful tunes of triumph and spring, her mother and Prim dancing joyfully, for once in their lives actually _smiling _since her father's death, the very man watching a fair distance away, still as familiar and wonderful as he was ever when he was still alive. Even Gale stood in the meadow, a contented smile settled on his face, as the very sight of him sent a familiar wave of warmth to wash over her, the same which did every time they went hunting together. Cinna, Haymitch - even the sometimes overbearingly-irritating Effie was there, the three of them smiling and conversing happily. Life was perfect. And then, there was _him._

_Peeta._

"_Peeta_," Katniss smiled, unable to contain the goofy grin that split her face, rushing towards him, across the blades of grass and sprouts of dandelions, never feeling more elated or _free _in her entire life. As she neared him, Katniss could not help but feel the rush of dizzy pleasure that jabbed at her when she made out the face of her most precious person: smiling, cheerful, as beautifully-Peeta as always. Unabashedly, she sprinted like she had never sprinted before and leapt into his arms, the feeling of his warmth radiating off her enough to make her giggle madly like some lovesick schoolgirl. "_Peeta, Peeta_," Katniss laughed, wanting to preserve this moment and the warmth of Peeta's body for the rest of her life.

"_Katniss, Katniss_," Peeta mimicked softly, Katniss allowing her eyes to shut as the smile never left her face.

Here, everyone was happy.

Here, everything was perfect.

For her, this was good enough.

"_Peeta, I want to be stuck here forever. You, me, everyone. Everything here is just so _perfect_,_" Katniss gushed quietly, sincerely, the feeling of him in her arms the best she had had in years.

It was probably the best she had ever felt in her _whole _life.

Suddenly, Katniss felt something cold press against the fabric of her shirt, wet and sticky. Upon instinct, Katniss pulled back, holding Peeta at shoulder's length.

"_Peeta - oh, oh_ god!"

for there, staining both the abdomens of their shirts, was a large patch of blood.

Peeta's blood.

"_Peeta_!" Katniss wailed, as the boy suddenly began to sway, collapsing into her arms until his head lay in her lap, Katniss cradling him anxiously as the dandelions and grass wilted from all around her,

_Not again, not again, not again..._

"_Katniss_," Peeta managed to croak weakly, stroking her face softly, as his skin turned a dangerously-pallid colour, the warmth literally _bleeding _out of him, _"Katniss, why didn't..."_

_No, no, not those words again, _please, _not those words - !_

"... you save us?"

_"PEETA!" _Katniss screamed shrilly, as tearless sobs wrecked her body. He was dead - again. How many times this torture would repeat she didn't know, and now she had grown to hate and even detest the once comfortingly neutral power of slumber. Now, upon feeling Peeta's deathly inanimate _ corpse _in her body for possibly the second or third time after the Games, Katniss' sanity and heart shattered more than she had thought was even possible.

And so did her perfect world.

_"Why didn't you save us, Katniss?" _a new, soft, sad voice suddenly intruded, Katniss' eyes snapping open as she turned around to face the culprit.

_Rue!_

"_Rue_!" Katniss cried, as she saw the small beautiful brown girl stare at her with the same haunting, doe-like eyes. But it wasn't the eyes that haunted her.

It was the spear embedded in the small child's torso.

_"Oh no, please, not you too, Rue!" _Katniss screamed, as the young Tribute collapsed onto the ground, dandelions and blades of grass gone and incinerated. Now, the meadow had given way to an empty, barren wasteland, engulfed in flames and strewn with pitch-black rock.

And also to Katniss' utter dismay and devastation, _bodies._

Grotesque, battered, _dead _bodies. Glassy eyes, blood stained clothes, silent screams affixed to their faces forever, that would haunt the District 12 Victor for the rest of her life... one by one, as she sat there, utterly helpless, frozen and paralysed by fear and pure terror, Peeta's body spread out across her lap, once happy and lively figures and identities in her life bled and collided with the ground, Katniss screaming each time another one hit the floor.

Cinna... her father... Haymitch... Effie... Gale... her mother... _Prim_... all bloody and dead, all whispering the same things as the light flickered out of their eyes.

_"You didn't save us, you didn't save us..."_

"... you didn't save us..."

_"No, no! Don't leave me all alone!" _Katniss screeched, fingers desperately clenching the blood-stained fabric of Peeta's top as she wildly surveyed her surroundings, desperate for a sign of life, just _one_, small flicker to tell her she was not all alone and irrevocably _gone_, _"please, stay with me! _

_Please!"_

There was no one.

Now, she was plunged into a cold darkness, the icy chilliness of the lifeless-void she currently existed in creeping its coldness into her insides, the young female curling into a foetal position tightly as she buried her head into her arms, trying as best as she could to stay hidden away from the ridiculous, cruel, cruel, ugly world she had come to acquaint herself with the past few days.

Living was _worthless._

__Losing hope in the world and failing to see even a ray or hint of light in it as she had concluded earlier was one thing, losing the will to live was another. _I don't care anymore, _Katniss told herself wearily, exhausted and worn by all that she had gone through since Peeta's death, _I don't care, I just don't care..._

_living in this ugly, hateful world._

_I hate it._

_No beauty, no happiness, no Peeta, no _warmth... _I hate this world so, so much._

_This cruel and despicable world, where I am all alone._

_Where I have nothing._

_Where I_ am _nothing. _

darkness.

And then,

_"Katniss."_

a sudden warmth enveloped her body, coaxing it out of its shell as a sudden wave of pure _heat_ engulfed her, the chilliness suddenly dispersing as warmth spread its way across her flesh and soul, enough to radiate light in the seemingly perpetual darkness.

_Who... is it? _Katniss thought drearily before she felt herself being lulled into a peaceful sleep, nightmare instantly gone despite how empty and broken she still very much was. _This is enough_, she told herself as she drifted away from the darkness and into a state of temporary security and tranquillity, the image of a boy with blonde beautiful hair and brazen blue eyes glowing fiercely in her mind as she drifted off finally into a contented rest.

This was enough, for now.

And even if it were temporary, and the warmth and radiance of the touch and presence of another human being, from just _one person _was destined to not remain with her cold and empty being forever, Katniss accepted it, wholeheartedly and gratefully taking the warmth into her body as her thoughts drifted away.

Blonde hair... blue eyes...

_Peeta...?_

Even if this was not real, it was enough.

Katniss, as if feeling for now all the pain and burden had been alleviated from her shoulder, decided to give up all coherent thought and stopped thinking, clinging onto the last yet fleeting thing she could hold onto for now to keep on living.

_Thank you._

_"Thank you."_

She drifted off into a peaceful oblivion.

.

.

.

Cato had never felt so messed up in his entire life.

He'd fucked up.

He'd fucked up _big time._

_Why couldn't he do it?_

Why couldn't he kill Katniss Everdeen?

Cato Stone had never felt more conflicted nor _fucked up _in his entire life as he allowed his eyes to shut unceremoniously.

Tomorrow, he would do it.

Tomorrow, he would fix things up.

Tomorrow, he would wonder why of all things to do, he had slipped into the bed of Katniss Everdeen and held her in his arms when he should have been strangling her cold corpse mercilessly and with great pleasure.

_Tomorrow._

He drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Remember when I said at the beginning of this chapter there really wasn't much interesting content except Snow's intentions for Katniss and Cato? **  
>I lied.<strong>

*As for Snow's contention, here's an explanation: Snow needs a distraction for recent problems and discord that have arisen in some of the Districts (I think we all know what these issues are and how they were caused), and needs to occupy the masses with something whilst he 'fixes' aforementioned problems: Katniss and Cato's supposed love story, which was so popular it has even influenced the whole of the Capitol audience to crown two champions for the first time in Hunger Games history. However, Snow also reveals that he cares nothing for Katniss, and proposes that another means of distraction is _killing her, _which will obviously spark scandal and nationwide attention on her whole murder and Cato's actions. Unfortunately, Cato decides to go with option 2. Hopefully this explains it.


	6. Amaranthus

**A/N: **Hi everyone. Firstly, I'd like to say **THANKYOU SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! 30 + REVIEWS FOR ONE CHAPTER ! I finally have a fic with 100 + reviews ! **You guys are the best, and I've made this a promise: I _will _finish this story, and I _will _update regularly. You guys are the best !

Uhm, I just got school holidays today, but I won't be able to update for the rest of the week. My family are going somewhere for Holy Week starting tomorrow, and we're going through a tough time right now because my grandpa died :( Thanks for your understanding and patience.

Anyway, please enjoy, keep being your awesome selves by reviewing, and have a Happy Easter ! Even if you're not Catholic/Christian, have fun :)

This chapter is just a recap of what happened the night before, no major revelations or plot advancements.

By the way, I found some more songs to use for my chapters, so look forward to that :) I'm glad some of you like my music lol, I always thought it was pretty crappy taste for me considering none of my friends like it x.x

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething_

**Chapter Six: **Amaranthus

_x.x.x_

_"And she says happiness ain't free_  
><em>Everybody fights just like me<em>  
><em>But I've given up the ability to retreat.<em>

_But I say Ruby, Ruby, Ruby_  
><em>You gotta start lifting your<em>  
><em>Head up, Head up, Head up<em>  
><em>And I say Ruby, Ruby, Ruby<em>  
><em>I know it's hard but you gotta get<em>  
><em>Out of Bed, Out of Bed, Out of Bed<em>

_Yeah she don't know what to do,_  
><em>She's got everything but nothing to lose..."<em>

_- Ruby, _Foster the People

_._

_._

_._

_"Katniss," _Peeta spoke her name softly, as she slightly relished in the way it sounded out of his mouth.

"_Peeta," _Katniss sighed contentedly, head pillowed against his lap, eyes closed, basking in his very being and _warmth._

The District 12 Victor did not know how long they had been doing this; sitting here, in the meadow, her head in his lap as his fingers threaded through her hair, neither willing to move as they sat amongst the dandelions and the twittering of joyful Mockingjays. It was as if they were suspended in time; Peeta very much alive and _warm, _she, happy and free. Here, there was no Games, no mournful and sad times, no connection to the grim reality she was really trapped in. Here, she was safe.

Here, she was happy.

_"Tell me again, that story about how Prim got her goat..."_ Peeta asked gently, as they basked in the pure carefree-nature of their surroundings, _"tell me again how you and Rooba tricked that goat-man into giving it to you..." _

Katniss could not prevent the incorrigible smile that spread across her lips. Any other person or time, she would have deemed herself a love-sick fool, and would have been too terribly proud or embarrassed to act so _lovingly _towards someone, but this time it was different. This time, she was with _Peeta. _The only thing that managed to keep her sane and determined enough to keep going despite all the hardships she'd gone through.

To her, Peeta was everything.

_"Not now, not now," _Katniss murmured light-heartedly, _"I just want to bask in this moment forever..."_

but she couldn't. For all of a sudden, she felt herself drifting away from Peeta's arms and back into consciousness.

_No, not again, please don't do this to me again...! _Katniss inwardly screamed as she outstretched her hands to hold onto something, _anything, _that would keep Peeta tangible and real to her.

_No... Peeta...!_

"Peeta!"

Instantly, Katniss felt her eyes snap open as her world became one of morning-light and the softness of pillows and cushions. Slowly, the young girl allowed her grey eyes to blink as she felt the sleepiness drain from her, still clinging on desperately, frantically, to the notion that Peeta was there, alive and well, sleeping right beside her as he sometimes did during the training for the Games when she felt so desperately anxious and alone. Even if she didn't truly grasp the concept of how precious Peeta was back then, Katniss knew it had been the same now as it was back then, even when her love for him had been nothing more than a sham: she was grateful for every touch of Peeta's, every gesture of kindness, every extension of his warmth onto such a cold-hearted being as her.

Peeta was, quite essentially, the sun in her world.

Who, when Katniss turned to look beside her, only to see an empty space, had been cruelly taken away from her, leaving nothing but a world cast in eternal darkness.

_That's right... _Katniss remembered broken-heartedly, _Peeta's gone, Peeta's dead._

_He isn't here anymore._

Slowly, Katniss allowed her face to bury itself into her hands as she allowed one small, brief, fleeting moment of real pain and sadness, a single choke of pure _grief _escaping her lips as she struggled to keep the tears in.

_All for Peeta... you promised you wouldn't cry for Peeta..._

Then, just as quickly as she had done it, as quickly as the sorrow had consumed her, it was gone, buried away until another day.

Katniss Everdeen had become hollow once more.

Not even the unfamiliar scent of someone else in her bed was enough to distract her from the horrid blankness that filled her soul.

_A brand new day in a life that I hate..._

.

.

.

Cato knew what he had done was wrong.

He knew he had fucked up (for the umpteenth time in the past few days, he'd noticed with annoyance).

When he'd woken up and seen her soft, vulnerable, _carefree _face, right next to his own, he knew he'd really messed up this time. It was enough to send him catapulting towards the nearest exit of the room, desperate to get out as quickly as possible. The way she had buried her face into his chest, the way his had casually slung over her form, as if they were friends, more than friends... it was enough to send him cringing with disgust and his heart thumping with something he'd rather not associate himself with.

So why?

Why did he continue doing it?

Why did Katniss Everdeen affect him _so much_?

_She's poison, _Cato growled inwardly, furious and largely confused as he angrily beat the punching-bag installed in his room, unrestrained and wildly close to grabbing his sword and plunging it into the next person he saw's chest (preferably Katniss Everdeen's). _She's toxic and she's screwing up my life. Damn it! Why didn't I kill her? Why didn't I just end all this madness back in the Arena?_

When he couldn't find the reason, it only served to anger the short-tempered boy even further.

_Fuck! _Cato thought, as he slammed his fist with incredible force against the battered bag, panting heavily,_ I can't keep doing this, whatever the hell 'this' is._ _I have to do it. I really have to kill her. I need to get this over with. I have to stop this shit before it gets any worse._

_I have to kill her._

It was obvious enough; he _knew _he had to kill her (as he'd concluded a _number _of times), but why couldn't he? What was taking him so long, making him drag the problem out longer than it already was? Was it pity? Cato scoffed at this, highly doubtful. He didn't feel pity for that small District 11 girl who was only of age 12, so why would he feel sorry for a lean and ready-to-kill pathetic District 12? No, it was something else.

_Something..._

the pains in his chest...

the sad grey soulless orbs of her eyes...

_"I will never forgive you, Cato"_...

he _felt _something every time he remembered those things, something terribly _painful..._

what...

_No! _Cato told himself furiously, denying to see the truth as his fist slammed against the punching-bag once more, fists bloody and aching, _I do _not _have any 'feelings' for her! She is a stupid, pathetic, useless District 12! I don't care, I don't care, I don't care...!_

_ She's nothing, nothing...!_

_Then why...? _Cato finally asked himself, as he sat on his bed, sweat rolling down his body as he tugged his shirt off, _why did I do it...?_

_Why didn't I kill her?_

_Why did I...?_

Cato remained terribly static and still as he recalled what had happened the night before.

The event that had changed _everything._

.

.

.

**The night before**

Cato had slipped into her room, unarmed and undetected. Wearing nothing but a dark shirt, light-treading shoes and pants similar to the ones he had worn during the Games, the tall District 2 Career had slipped into her room silent and ready to kill. Intent on making every inch of her suffer before her inevitable succumbing to death at _his _hands (an idea he _greatly _took pleasure in), Cato flexed his fingers, anticipating the feel of his fingertips around her soft, clammy neck as he stealthily approached her, the idea of strangling the District 12 bitch to death almost as tantalizing as the time he had so excitedly tried to climb up the tree to come get her himself before she'd so unwittingly thrown a hive of Tracker-Jackers at them.

_The hunt, _Cato thought smugly, a certain sadistic and malicious glee twinkling in his icy blue eyes as he approached her cautiously.

Never mind, the pains in his chest, begging him to turn back now.

Never mind, the flashes of her grey eyes and sad, sad face that made him want to just _get the hell out._

Now, he was here, and ready to carry out his mission.

He was ready to end all the madness.

He was just a few steps closer when Cato finally noticed something. Taking a weary step back, Cato observed with curiosity the peculiar sight in front of him.

_Katniss..._

was she _crying?_

Granted, it was difficult to see in the dark, but he could not make out any shine of tears on her cheeks. No, what he could see was a girl, terribly afraid and in deep anguish, choking and making sobbing sounds as she twisted and turned in her bed, restless and agitated.

Cato stood there, for what seemed like hours, as he figured out what to do. Inside, a vicious conflict raged within him, like two elemental forces of might battling against one another, pushing and pulling at his actions and feelings. _What are you doing? _one screamed, furious and enraged, _finish what you came here to do! KILL HER! _oh, how dearly Cato wished he could just do so.

But he couldn't.

Something was holding him back.

_Look at her, _another voice reasoned, _she's suffering! She's crushed; she's broken, and you're just going to go in and kill her? Pathetic, _it sneered, making Cato's heart clench far more painfully than it should.

_Pathetic._

_I'm pathetic._

Cato didn't know what he wanted to do, nor could do, but he knew that when his legs started moving on their own and his heart resumed an uneasily even pace, that he had no choice in the matter. Suddenly, it was as if his body had been seized by an uncontrollable force, driving him on and scaring him at the same time. _When I get there, will my hands wrap around her throat? _Cato asked himself warily, voice tight and muscles taunt, _or..._

_or what?_

_What else am I going to do?_

_I didn't come here to befriend her, I came here to _kill _her! So why is this so hard?_

_Why does it have to be her?_

_Why is everything so fucking messed up?_

_'Why'... _the word seemed to be quite popular with him lately, Cato noted with a scoff of derision. Finally looming just a few centimetres above Katniss' form, Cato gulped, his hands shaking more than it ever had before.

_"This is what I wanted, right?" _Cato whispered softly to himself, staring at his shaking palms with both frustration and despair. "So why, why is it _so _hard?"

Finally, he dropped his gaze to the stirring Katniss' face, as if searching for answers there, the dark-haired Victor's face contorted with pain and agony as she struggled with her intangible demons. Cato could only wonder vaguely as to _what _on earth would make the once fearless and fiery-spirited Girl on Fire so afraid and vulnerable.

But then again, _he _had been the sole reason for her current state of wretchedness.

_It's my fault. _Cato realised blankly, devoid of any of the triumph and happiness he had so often basked in before at the plight of another human being,

_all of this... was because of me._

And for a moment, Cato had never been so close to realising the reason why he had done what he did in the Arena.

For one moment in his life, Cato allowed himself to admit that he did - for _one _small, insignificantly fleeting second - feel something for her.

_Guilt._

And it scared him so, _so _much.

"Since when did _I _care so much about your useless existence?" the blonde boy whispered aloud, as the girl let out a barely audible cry. "You're nothing special. You're just a girl who happened to be picked in the Games. You're no better than anyone else, so why _you_?"

_She's nothing special, remember? _he tried to tell himself fervently, to no avail, _she's nothing. Stop trying to convince yourself otherwise! Clove was a soul you could relate to, Glimmer was a pretty little plaything for you to toy with during the Games when there was nothing to do, all those other girls you shared a bed and District with were at least attractive and glorified you, despite their blatant stupidity... but what about Katniss Everdeen? She has nothing!_

_She is _nothing_!_

He was right about that. Katniss really did, in no shape or form, have something that particularly enticed him. She was a plain sort of pretty, and from the range of girls he'd encountered she was probably around the mediocre to decent range, having average features which he could easily find in another dozen or so girls. She held absolutely no respect nor the smallest bit of affection for him, and though he was sure the feelings were mutual, the thought of it sent a dull ache in his chest. She'd proven that they were not kindred spirits when it came to killing and winning like he and Clove had been, and she seemed adverse to killing when it was not necessary (a trait Cato deeply scoffed at). She didn't have a charming teenage charisma nor vulnerability that lured you in, not like Glimmer did. So why did she matter?

And why did he care?

But, that wasn't _all _completely true. Katniss may not have been the most beautiful girl out there, but when she had entered the Opening Ceremony in her jet black suit and flame cape, Loverboy by her side (Cato felt an odd heavy feeling embed itself into his chest as he recalled the way they had held hands), Cato could not have recalled a more radiant, more fierce, more flawlessly enchanting creature in his whole life, her eyes as sharp and as daring as her costume itself. Even Cato, had he not been blinded with jealousy and murderous rage as he gazed at her during that day would have admitted to himself she was truly a sight to behold, her immensely-overbearing radiance surpassing even that of the beauty of Glimmer and her daring costume.

And her eyes... they were perhaps her most beautiful trait of all. The grey was a common occurrence in the poorer parts of District 12, he knew with a sharp sense of disdain, but it was not the colour that memorized him: it was the fire within them. Untamed, boundless , fiercely passionate and ready to ignite all that it set its sights upon, Cato could truly understand why she had been the Girl on Fire in every literal sense. It was a breathtakingly beautiful thing, her eyes.

Except now that they were gone.

Because of him.

Cato's blood ran cold as he tried to ward himself away from any treacherous, traitorous thoughts that reflected upon Katniss Everdeen. He needed the motivation to kill her, not more reasons to think why she was so damn special (even if he himself did not know either).

"..._cold_..." Katniss suddenly whimpered out almost unintelligibly, just enough for Cato's trained ears to pick up.

_What?_

"So... _cold_..." Katniss breathed out shakily, curling into a tight ball as she shuddered. And then,

"...don't... leave... me..."

That was all it took.

That was all it took for Cato to break.

This time for sure, he knew he couldn't do it.

_Pitiful, _Cato thought to himself bitterly, _she's pathetic and now I am._

_And I still can't kill her._

_I really fucked up this time, didn't I..._

Slowly, as if the world had stood still and time itself had ceased its eternal flow, Cato effortlessly slipped out of his shoes and crawled onto the bed next to her, carefully taking his place behind her back so as not to disturb her. It was bad enough knowing that _he _himself had done this, but if Katniss knew... Cato shook his head softly, some of his blonde hair falling lightly onto his eyes. _No, _he decided steadily, _this will have to be my own little secret for now._

_ My own dirty, wretched little secret._

Slowly, Cato reached out a hand, before touching lightly on Katniss' exposed arm, retracting instantly upon contact. _Cold, _Cato noted, taking note of the slight sheen of sweat that had taken over her skin, before he pressed his hand to her arm again, firmer. _She's so cold._

_She needs to be warmed up._

In all honesty, Cato did not at all feel the least bit awkward sharing this bed with his complete and utter enemy who he was sure he still wanted to kill while at the same time genuinely felt guilty for. It was true, he had been quite the ladies man back in his District (and _still _was, he insisted upon reiterating firmly), so sharing a bed with a female was almost second-nature to him; however, the thing that did make him feel awkward was the sudden level of gentle intimacy that he had suddenly begun to employ on the sleeping girl next to him. All the other occasions with a girl in his bed was rough, passionate, unbridled, simply living for the need to feel one other, to satisfy their own needs as they indulged in the sinful pleasures of the human body. Now, with this stupid, useless, pathetic girl sleeping next to him, it was quiet, gentle softness, the only heat between them being the one radiating from his natural body temperature. This was not an act of love, nor compassion, nor anything at all. The truth was Cato was simply just too tired to _think _anymore.

Katniss Everdeen had ruined him, just as he had ruined her.

Cautiously, Cato stretched out his arm, carefully slipping it over Katniss' slender and shivering form before pulling her shuddering body against his tightly, trying to radiate as much warmth off himself and onto her. Several times, Cato asked himself what in the hell he was doing, but after about the sixth of fifth he'd simply given up on speculating for a reason. She was cold; he was warm. Wasn't that reason enough?

Inwardly, Cato knew the answer: _no._

He didn't think about it any further.

She was... _soft. _Cato wanted to slap himself furiously at that observation. _What was _wrong _with him?_

_Katniss Everdeen, _Cato mused almost bitterly, _that's what's wrong with me these days._

_A hopelessly skinny, stupid, weak,_ broken _girl from District 12._

_The root of all my problems._

_And, if I was just man enough to kill her, the solution too._

It was an odd situation: two people, who normally hated one another, both blatant with their intention to kill the other, curled up in bed together, almost as if they were friends or even lovers. Cato quickly shook his head at the latter, cursing his traitorous mind for the umpteenth time that night. 'Lovers' to the Capitol maybe, but not in real life. Not even close.

After all, how could you possibly love someone when you wanted to so dearly kill them at the same time?

How could someone like _him_, cool, calculating and as sharp and as impenetrable as steel itself, ever fall in love with a girl like _her_, fiery, emotional and now recently-discovered so easily fragile and broken? And why was he even _thinking _about it? The thought of him even entertaining such an idea made Cato frown against Katniss' hair with disdain. _No feelings for her, _Cato reminded himself, _no attachments. She's nothing, she's nothing..._

Eventually, the older teen allowed his mind to drift as he lost himself in the scent of her hair and the pure _softness _of her form. He had been so caught-up, that when Cato finally realised she had stopped her shivering, and that he had drifted off to a peaceful doze, it had been two hours after his initial 'murder attempt'.

3 am.

A new day.

Cato was just about convinced that he had, quite frankly, lost the ability to 'give a fuck' about whatever happened next as his eyes grew weary from the pure _warmth _and _softness _generated between the both of them, skin touching and bodies curled against one another's, when Katniss Everdeen, the girl who he was learning to curse so many times in the past few days suddenly went and shocked him once more.

_"Thank you," _Katniss finally breathed, voice laden with gratitude despite the distant, sleepy tone it was saturated in, Cato going rigid as soon as he had heard it.

_There._

Now she'd gone and done it.

Instantly, Cato felt his body tense up as if he had been petrified, now fully awake and aware of the very alarming circumstances he had found himself in. _Fuck, _Cato remembered with a sliver of dread burning his very soul, _fuck, I shouldn't be here. I was meant to _kill _her, not assume the role of her god-damn 'lover' or something! Fuck, fuck, fuck...! _For one brief moment in his life, Cato had lost control of the situation, it now unravelling and blowing out around him in rather epic proportions. The last time this had happened, his and his Pack of fellow Careers' had witnessed their hard-earned Cornucopia loot explode right before their eyes. The consequences had been the death of that stupidly naive District 3 boy, the sickening crack of his neck deemed retribution for his incompetency in Cato's ears. Looking back at it now, Cato wouldn't have been surprised if Katniss was responsible for _that_ incident too.

When Cato had slipped into Katniss' bed, he knew that what he had gotten into was bad. Literally 'sleeping with the enemy', comforting her when he should have been smothering the life out of her cold and treacherously soft body... he knew it was a pretty messed up idea, and that it probably wasn't the smartest. Despite all his reasoning telling him not to, he carried on. But when Katniss had actually _responded _to it, had actually showed the first gesture of thankfulness or anything positive towards him in their whole time of having met, just by those two damnably terrifying words, Cato finally realised the full extent of his actions, and the potential consequences that could come out of it - the two of them developing into something more than enemies, into something even remotely as implausible as _comrades, _when he needed all the reason he could now to kill her, as hard enough as it was - it did something to him.

It _frightened _him.

For Katniss Everdeen had been the first person ever to ever really bestow an act of kindness upon him.

And he didn't like it.

His whole life, Cato had lived for only one thing, and only one thing only. Even when he was just a nameless and faceless being existing in his mother's womb, already had Cato's fate been determined, as all those born in his particular District of military units and stone quarries were. It had been the only _reason _he was created, in order to bring the chance of honour and pride upon his family, The Stone lineage. Ever since he had been a small boy, it had been all he'd ever heard about, learnt about, wanted to have, coveted; no, _needed _to have. Just to pursue it, he had been forced to abandon menial things such as love, happiness and free-will.

He'd also had to give up, unbeknownst to him, his _happiness._

That one thing was victory.

And it had been all he had ever known.

Even now, Cato knew no life without it being his constant goal. In District 2, winning the Games was everything. Though no one particularly volunteered, it was considered a great honour in the Career-raising District to be elected as representative for their proud and formidable District in the Games. If any of the kids were terrified, they did their best not to show it. Briefly, Cato remembered the Tribute from the 70th Games, a young girl no older than the 74th's District 11 girl. When she had been chosen, the young girl had grown so hysterical to the point that they had to sedate her and elect another Tribute, deeming her 'incompetent' for competing. Needless to say, the shame that weighed on her family was unbearable. Cato didn't think much of her then. To him, she was just another weakling in the strong crop of potential candidates. Anyhow, the thought of bringing shame to his family was unthinkable. Though he held no real love for his parents or really _anyone _in the whole world, that didn't mean he wanted to disappoint and shame them.

They were the closest thing he'd ever really had to 'love'.

In his entire life, Cato had never experienced the touch of 'kindness' or 'compassion'. Training as a Career, there were no sentiments or amicable exchanges between friends. For all his life, Cato had only known the touches of discipline, ruthlessness and the idea that everyone surrounding you, whether they have the face of a woman or a child, were out to get you. It was an unspoken law instilled in each and every one of the District 2 Careers, etched into their very beings. All they really lived for and hungered for was the fame and the glory and the need to kill.

Love and kindness was nothing when it came to victory and triumph.

_"Thank you"_... the words back in his District were only used in civil and polite conversations, but even then was sparse and said just for the sake of it. When Katniss had said it... it made him _feel _something, feel something new and foreign when she had uttered it. The way she had uttered it, so genuine, so thankful... it was new to him. The idea that he, Cato, ruthless killer and her greatest foe had _done _that to her, when not so long ago he had made her broken and ruined with his cruelty and malevolence... for some reason, it made him feel strange.

He didn't like it, at all.

Thus, it was at that moment, Cato sprinted out of the room, grabbing his shoes, forgetting to remain silent and stealthy despite the fact that Katniss was now stirring in her bed.

_She's nothing, she's nothing, _Cato tried to tell himself once more, when he had finally escaped into the safety of his own room, _it was a stupid mistake, stupid, stupid..._

but for some reason, Cato couldn't forget, the girl with the sad eyes and the gentle words, haunting his every thought until the sun had glowed tightly against the horizon once more.

And for that one stupid, insignificant thing, Cato realised something.

Katniss Everdeen made him scared, scared of the things he felt.

Felt for _her._

**End Flashback**

.

.

.

Katniss had finally made her way to the dining room, feeling worse than she ever had before. Last night, she could have sworn, Peeta was there, right next to her, warm and breathing, alive and well...!

But he wasn't.

Peeta wasn't here anymore.

_I'm an idiot, _Katniss told herself bitterly, as she took her seat next to Haymitch, staring down at the plate of croissants and fresh, plump fruits awaiting her devouring, _I'm an idiot for even _thinking _things were okay again, that I could be better..._

"Glad you decided to join us, sweetheart," Haymitch mumbled nonchalantly behind his glass of liquor, swirling the ever-decreasing glass of amber liquid in his hand. "'Have a nice sleep?"

Suddenly, Katniss became aware of _another _pair of eyes lingering on her. Feeling as if something was piercing the armour that was her flesh, Katniss followed the gaze uneasily before she met a startling shade of blue.

Cato's.

Instantly, Katniss felt something prick in her insides once more. what was he _doing, _staring at her so intently, as if waiting for answer? Suddenly, Katniss remembered what Cato and she were meant to be parading as and scowled menacingly. She _hated _him, and she was sure he hated her. So what were they both doing, staring at each other as if they were the only two people in the room?

Swiftly, Katniss decided to turn the conversation, this time unbeknownst to her the way the emptiness was eroded with a hot and vivid anger, shooting a single accusative finger at him, pointing at him in a manner of confrontation. She turned her now sharp gaze to Haymitch, finger never leaving the direction of Cato.

"And what is _he _doing here?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cato flinch in surprise at the sudden sharp and cutting tone of her voice.

She didn't care.

"Katniss," Haymitch started uneasily, trying to take a reasonable tone in order to convince her and unfailingly failing, "you see, we just thought -"

"Oh Katniss! And Mr Stone, how marvellous it is to see the two of you together!" Effie's voice suddenly entered, high and faluting, dressed in her usual ensemble of high-end Capitol fashion, this time sporting a suit the colour of Cato's eyes. Turning her attention to the woman, Katniss sent a glare to her, causing Effie to gasp rather affrontedly.

Haymitch knew this was not going to be good.

"Effie," Katniss articulated slowly, sharply, "could you please _explain _why this person is eating breakfast with us?"

Effie looked nervous as she replied, Haymitch downing another shot of alcohol whilst Cato sat still. "You - you see," Effie started, giving a nervous laugh as she fluttered her butterfly-doted eyelashes anxiously, "after that interview, with the whole of Panem thinking, thinking you were together..."

Katniss' sharp, threateningly murderous gaze pushed Effie to continue.

"We thought it would be a great idea, Enobaria included, for you two to get to know each other better, to grow on one another so that maybe you could - "

"Could _what_?"

Effie flung her hands into the air, clearly flabbergasted. "I don't know, fall in love, learn to play your parts well!" Effie blurted out, as Katniss' fists clenched so hard that her nails cut into her very flesh, "you see, you just seemed so unhappy about the idea so we thought, maybe if you two got to know each other better like you and Peeta did - "

At this, Katniss finally snapped.

'That _monster," _Katniss breathed, voice shaky and spiteful, as she arose from where she sat, "will _never _be Peeta! Don't you _dare _compare the two!" Katniss shouted, furious and quaking with pure _fury. _Cato remained silent, as Katniss continued on her rampage. "Peeta," Katniss started, arms falling to her sides as they clenched, trembling terribly, "was _good _and _pure _and worth it. This bastard," Katniss said, her head gesturing towards Cato, "is a sick and twisted and evil monster. I would rather _die," _she stated, every word laden with genuineness and grief, as everyone remained silent and speechless, "than be paired with that _monster _of a human being. Do you understand? I will never do anything more than hate him. Do you get it, Cato?" she said this time, turning to stare the shocked boy right in the eyes, cursing her heart for comparing his eyes and hair to that of Peeta's, "I _hate _you! And I will never forgive you! I wish you'd just killed me in the Arena, because I hate you and I _hate _all of this! I hate you!

I hate you Cato!"

Satisifed with the appalled sense of silence that had now permeated the room, Katniss' sharp and furiously grey eyes, as vicious and rampant as a storm itself swept the room, wrathful and relentless and utterly callous, before storming out the door. She couldn't take this anymore. Where was the nightlock when she needed it?

"They're all idiots," Katniss whispered harshly to herself as she sat locked in her room, back against the huge door with her knees tucked into her chest. "I hate this life. I'm sick of it, sick of everything." Katniss continued, as she rocked back and forth.

Briefly, her mind began mulling over the boy with the blonde hair and icy blue eyes she had just verbally assaulted earlier. Katniss smiled wistfully against the caps of knees, _if only my words had been arrows, maybe then..._

He was just so _infuriating! _And to think, Effie and Haymitch actually _believed _that just by getting the two to eat breakfast together would eventually cause them to like, even _love _one another! _All I have for him is hate, _Katniss told herself angrily, _no love, no sweetness. He is _nothing _like Peeta. Peeta was good, and kind, and wonderful, and..._

Instantly, Katniss shut her eyes, immediately cutting off her train of thought as she was immersed in the darkness of sightlessness. No, she couldn't afford to think about Peeta anymore. The more she did, the more she wished to be with him, rather than on the corrupted and heartless world she had learnt to acquaint herself with once more.

but she didn't want to forget him. She loved Peeta _so, so _much, how could she even _try _and stop thinking about him? His beautiful blue eyes (blue had become her favourite colour, she'd decided after she saw them), his irresistibly beautiful blonde hair. He was so perfect... unlike Cato. Sure, Cato had the same blue eyes as Peeta, and the same beautiful shade of blonde hair, and he had a perfectly handsome face, but he was a _monster_, with a sick, sick disposition that warped his entire impression on her all together. She could _never _love him, not like she loved Peeta.

She hated Cato.

But more so, more than anything in the world, she hated the fact that she was still _alive._

She hated herself.

And the little spark Cato had unimaginably started within her once hollow and empty being.

.

.

.

Cato sat for a few more moments before getting up to his room, to stunned to even be angry.

With the door shut behind him, he began to think.

So Katniss hated him... Cato snorted. The feeling was mutual, to say the least. And though her words _had _sent that same sharp stab through his chest, aching and throbbing terribly, it eventually went away when he realised something.

Staring into Katniss' sleet grey eyes, Cato had willingly let go of his newfound anger towards her when he noticed something new, something enchantingly terrifying yet beautiful at the same time.

Her eyes.

There was a _fire _in them.

Granted, it was aimed mostly at _him,_ threatening to incinerate and burn him alive, but nonetheless it was _there. _Small, yet still flickering, taunting him and ensnaring him, the fire burnt brightly as they danced wickedly through her eyes and out onto her words, cutting and powerful.

Did he still want to kill her? Yes, now even more so than ever, considering parts of her old self were cracking through. Cato smirked, finally having reached a conclusion to his long, very _long _wondering of why he was unable to find the motivation to kill her the past few days. Perhaps the reason he had been unable to kill her previously was because it was no fun if she was literally _letting _him do it, defenceless and weak. Yes, that must have been it! Cato felt his smirk grow bigger, never feeling more powerful or triumphant in his whole life. He didn't want to kill her because of some stupid-ass 'feelings', he didn't want to kill her because it was no fun! Afterall, what fun was it to kill your prey who gave you no chase, no excitement? _It makes sense, _Cato thought, secretly relieved, _everything makes fucking sense now._

Except for the pains in his chest and the way he had relished in her softness as he held her tenderly against him, but Cato was determined to ignore that as he focused on his stunningly-pleasing revelation.

For now, it would be all right if he continued to do what he did. Holding Katniss in his arms was nice feeling surprisingly, and the blonde male concluded that doing so would be harmless if he going to kill her anyway. He could toy with his prey all he wanted, until he killed her... Cato smiled as he felt his predatory urges and instincts return to him. He _was _right, she was nothing. Just something to occupy himself with and steal victory from.

For now, he could not kill her. At least not yet. Now, she was still in a fragile, broken state, but when she returned to her former glory, the fire blazing in her eyes as she burnt her hate upon him, branding his flesh with her utter contempt for him... Cato felt euphoric, finally feeling like his old self again amidst all the shit that had taken place lately. Then, he would kill her.

Then, he would claim true victory.

_So go, Katniss Everdeen, _Cato challenged her mentally, as he reclined in his bed, imagining the sleet grey eyes and the prettily-fierce face he coveted her to wear, _Girl on Fire. Allow your fire to burn brightly, rise out of the ashes once more._

_Because when you do,_

_I'll kill you._

Cato hungered for victory.

Cato lusted for the fire.

And ultimately, Katniss Everdeen's death.

His chest hurt.

He didn't care.

And little did he know, he could not have been any further from what he truly wanted.


	7. Nasturtium

**A/N: **Hi everyone. I'd like to apologise for the long delay in updating, especially after the immense and kind support and reviews you've showered upon my writing and I while I've been away. The truth is, I had to return to my homeland for my grandpa's funeral, and it was a bit hard, but I'm back and everything's okay again. Hopefully, I'll be able to make up for your waiting with this chapter, sadly I'm back to school so I'll probably update not as frequently as before as I have SO many co-curricular commitments, as well as homework ! x.x whatevs, it's all good. I hope I can still be a good writer for you guys!

Thankyou once again, I received a lot of wonderful, really, _really _beautiful responses from you guys, and I've never felt happier. You're all awesomely fantastic people, and I hope you know that. Whether it just be a quick review to tell me how much you liked the chapter, or a lengthy, in-depth and insightful one that greatly helps me out with my grammar and such, to even one just going on about your "Cato and Katniss feels", I greatly **appreciate all of them.** Thankyou, so, so much.** I love you all.**

So, enough of my blabbering. Now, I present to you, Chapter 7 of my fic _Broken_! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething_

**Chapter Six: **Nasturtium

_x.x.x_

_"she saw herself give in  
>every time she closed her eyes<br>she saw what could have been  
>well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds<br>when covers tucked in tight  
>funny when the bottom drops<br>how she forgets to fight... to fight_

_and it's one more day in paradise_  
><em>one more day in paradise<em>

_as darkness quickly steals the light_  
><em>that shined within her eyes<em>  
><em>she slowly swallows all her fear<em>  
><em>and soothes her mind with lies<em>  
><em>well all she wants and all she needs<em>  
><em>are reasons to survive<em>  
><em>a day in which the sun will take<em>  
><em>her artificial light... her light<em>

_and it's one more day in paradise_  
><em>one more day in paradise<em>  
><em>it's one more day in paradise<em>  
><em>one last chance to feel alright... alright..."<em>

_- Paradise, _Vanessa Carlton

_._

_._

_._

It had started, so innocent, so meaningless.

_Sleeping with the enemy._

So insignificant, so easily glossed over as he proceeded in his everyday life.

Cato had reassured himself it was nothing more than a form of entertainment for himself, a way to entertain himself before the inevitable death of her at his hands.

Now, he was not so sure.

It had been the fourth night of him doing so, and already Cato could feel himself being tugged deeper and deeper into a realm of uncertainty and doubt, his soul and mind plunged further into a dark and treacherous abyss that contradicted everything he believed and thought he wanted.

For the fourth night that week, Cato found himself entangled in the sheets of Katniss' Everdeen's bed, the darkness of the room and her undisturbed slumber the only things keeping others unaware of his secret, his sin.

_He couldn't stop._

It was like an addiction, his strange and unendingly shameful vice - what alcohol was to that mentor of Katniss', what Morphling was to countless men and women, what being in control probably like was for President Snow. Before, he had simply had winning and killing as stains on his soul, craving them like a hunter craves his kill during the chase, driven mindless as they hunted the animal down ruthlessly and needily. More recently, he had added lusting after Katniss' fire and also her death on his list, something that added both a brilliant surge of excitement through his stomach and a sharp jab of pain too in his chest. Now, the feel and sensation of her lying next to him, in bed, could be added on too.

And, when the past Career twirled a strand of inky dark hair around his forefinger, almost _relishing _in the moment, the sweet and quiet moment of it all, Katniss' warmth radiating off him as she slept in an undisturbed content, Cato knew instantly that something was off.

_What is _wrong _with me?_

Cato was sure that nothing was wrong with _him_ - afterall, he _was_ in prime physical form, all muscle and height as well as handsome and attractive, he was agile and ruthlessly powerful, not to mention the fact he also happened to be needlessly successful and excelled in every possible thing he set his mind to doing (well, except killing Katniss, but he was willing to overlook that).

So what the _hell _was the matter with him?

Just as quickly as he had thought it, the boy quickly shoved it back, Cato shaking his head furiously. Nevermind, it didn't matter. He'd gone over this shit before, and quite honestly he'd grown rather sick of it, his ponderings on the dark-haired District 12 girl always ending up with a painful chest and a jumbled head. He just hadn't been himself for a while now, that's all. A few more days, and the monstrous blonde was certain he'd be back to his old self, certain and so sure of his hate for Katniss just as he always had been, before their victory, before he'd come to know the comfort of her bed, before all _this._ What _'this' _was he still wasn't sure, but in all honesty he didn't want to know.

He couldn't _bear _knowing.

_A few more days, _Cato told himself readily, determined to force his thoughts to cling onto the tiny, weak little notion he had come up with, _a few more days of 'this' and I'll be all back to normal._

_And Katniss will be dead._

But, for the first time in what seemed like forever, Cato could not sleep peacefully at all with the latter words swirling in his head, clawing away within his skull so furiously that it was not until the first peeks of dawn that he was allowed to steal a few hours of sleep before leaving.

_Katniss will be dead._

.

.

.

Katniss awoke with a slight spring in her step, despite how heavy-hearted she still felt at the prospect of waking up to another agonising flash of misery that was her existence. Though the young District 12 Victor still felt very much at ends with the world right now, Katniss was not afraid to admit that this was the best she had felt in _days _(if by 'best' one went with having to go through a day without contemplating death several times throughout). Hair cascading down her shoulders in soft chocolate waves, Katniss once again pressed her fingertips to her wrist, still warm and very much a reminder that _he _was there.

_Peeta._

It was as if convincing herself that he was there, just the sound of his name was enough to keep her going through the day, despite how painful it was to even think of him. Day in, day out, all Katniss could think about besides how horrid the world truly was was _Peeta, Peeta, Peeta. _His eyes, his smile, his soft lips, his gentle heart... it was like a double-edged sword, the memory of his soft blue eyes and even softer blonde hair both propelling her to keep going in life whilst at the same time also reminded her of how dark the world had become without him there, _next _to her. Katniss shuddered, feeling truly empty again.

_Well, there goes my quick fix of happiness._

She knew it wasn't healthy. It had been almost like a routine for the past four days, going to sleep certain he no longer existed and that she might just have to _let him go, _before finding herself cradled in his warmth, all soft and alive and _there. _There, beside her, holding her in his arms, twirling her hair in his fingers. Sometimes, she would feel her eyes flutter, and for a moment, when she felt so certain she was _awake, _she was almost definite that the warmth _wasn't _just conjured by her dreams, desperate and craving for his life and light. During the quick snatches that she was so sure she was awake, eyes shut, she could almost swear she could _feel _him, breathing softly as her hair was lightly played with. It sounded insane, and she probably was, but Katniss continued to hold on desperately to the idea that Peeta came to visit her in her sleep and dreams, where he was safe and sound and nothing could hurt either of them.

For Katniss, Peeta's artificial warmth and nightly visits had become her addiction.

Her crazy, deranged, unhealthy addiction.

Katniss almost laughed to herself as she rounded the corner. _If only Haymitch and Effie knew, _Katniss thought bitter-sweetly with an almost wryly smile, _then maybe they'd stop trying to hook me up with the bastard who killed the only boy I'll ever love and they'll finally realise I've gone insane and will send me to get hooked up to some morphling after all._

_It's better than having to deal with _this.

But the worst thing of all was not when Katniss would see and _feel _Peeta in the night, her feeling-deprived brain making up stories just to satisfy her with the hope that Peeta was still _there_, with her, but the morning after, when the feelings of warmth would subside and the happiness would just _die_.

For Katniss, waking up had become pure _torture._

Although the past four nights had been the best she'd had in what felt like a long, _long _time, the past four mornings after, waking up only to a bed of empty, blunt coldness had possibly been some of the worst. Worse than the time she'd woken up and discovered that someone had stolen her stash of pelts she'd hidden so expertly under the shrubs near her house. Worse than the time she'd woken up, a morning after her father's death, only to see her mother standing there, in the corner, so distant and vacantly _gone. _

Worse than the time she'd woken up, only to realise a few seconds later Peeta was _gone._

It was like that morning all over again, only this time stuck in a sick sort of suspension in time; over and over, over and over. It was like the Capitol itself; the few seconds of happiness after convincing herself Peeta was there just as the way the Capitol adored the Tributes, loving and worshipping them; and then the crushing realisation afterwards that he no longer _existed _in the world just as much as how the Capitol would cruelly laugh at their failures and sickening ends during the Games. Loving and hating, that was all Katniss had ever seemed capable of before.

Now, with her incapacity to feel anything but pure _hate_, Katniss could almost regrettably wish she could just find something in the world to _love _again.

But she knew that was a false hope. After all, what left was there to love in a world that she was so certain hated her so contemptuously?

Briefly, Katniss allowed herself to reflect on two things as she padded towards the dining room, the only thing certain that kept her sane besides the fake warmth of Peeta's that kept her going through the night and into the harsh and callous day.

_Three things; _Katniss thought to herself, _three things I hate in my life right now._

It was almost like picking off a sitting duck. _  
><em>

_One. _

_The world._

Two.

_Peeta not being here._

_Three._

_How stupidly weak I've become._

And then, the hardest part.

_Three things I love about this world._

And when Katniss stepped into the familiar dining room, only to see a thatch of gold hair belonging to the person she was sure she hated more than anyone else, besides herself, Katniss knew she could not think of anything.

Nothing.

At.

All.

And it was that sad fact that made Katniss think that above all, above anything, she hated herself the most.

.

.

.

As soon as Katniss had entered the room, an eerie and tense silence came in, Haymitch shifting awkwardly in his seat whilst Effie pretended to busy herself with the barrage of gold flowers attached to her collar. Cato simply sat in his seat, trying his best to stare disinterestedly at the mahogany table he was currently seated before, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He didn't want conflict or trouble today. Today, his head was tired, last night, he'd only gotten in a few hours of sleep, if any.

Then again, lately it rarely seemed there had been a time where he wasn't _tired _at all.

"Katniss..." Haymitch began raspily, his very being _reeking _of the stench of alcohol, "how nice of you to join us..."

Subtly, Cato allowed his eyes to glide to Katniss' features, both repelled and attracted at the thought of what he might see.

Needless to say, the look on her face was _murderous, _eyes set to kill and freeze him to death as they swept over his form (eyes with such an intense _fire, _yet so cold at the same time), but the dark-haired girl slept into her seat wordlessly, silently pulling in her chair as she picked up her cutlery and began to eat the small dish of lamb stew and dried plums, eyes as hard as stone itself whilst Haymitch and Effie exchanged shifty glances. Finally, it was Haymitch who picked up the conversation, muttering lowly under his breath as Cato stared fixatedly at his plate in silence, all the while listening as the conversation unravelled around him.

"So..." Haymitch began again, the mentor smelling much too early in the morning like alcohol and sin for Cato's liking, "how are you feeling, Katniss?"

A flat silence was all that met the District 12 citizen's question before the sandy-haired man gave a cough once again.

"So listen, Katniss..." Haymitch continued, despite the poor reception he was currently receiving from the ill-tempered girl, "there's an official request from the Capitol, no, _President Snow _himself that you and Cato appear as a couple, just for a couple of shots - "

"No." Katniss responded curtly, voice as harsh and as coal as granite itself, the very coal that her District toiled for, that her father had _died _for, Effie giving an ineffable cry of indignation whilst Haymtich swore quietly under his breath.

_"I'm not doing it."_

"Come on, sweetheart - " her Mentor attempted bleakly once more, before being shut down once again.

"I said _no_," Katniss reiterated coldly, voice rising as the tension in the room did too. Briefly, Cato's eyes flickered from one District 12 Victor to the other. Katniss was uncooperative and being quite frankly a pain in the ass, and though her mentor was trying to remain understanding and patient with her, it was obvious that the hardened and tough-as-nails man was quickly growing sick of the game. Just from the sharp, menacing look in Haynitch's eyes, Cato could instantly identify the Victor he really had been, all those years ago: cold, ruthless and remorseless. Just as Victor should be.

"Listen, _sweetheart,_" the Mentor spat, words dripping with venom, temper at a fever pitch whilst Katniss maintained her indifferent irritation at his attempts to get her to listen, "just because you've been going through a hard time lately _doesn't _mean you have the right to go about and treat us like _shit. _You lost someone, I get it - " Haymitch surged, his hands doing wild gestures, as Effie hummed a little tune to block out the impending battle to come, "and Peeta was a _great _kid, but that doesn't give you any reason, to - "

"No, you don't." Katniss suddenly replied coldly, as Haymitch stopped in his tracks, frozen momentarily in his outraged disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

"_No_," Katniss repeated, as calm and as quiet as the calm before the storm itself, personified and embodied in the shell of this _girl, _this empty and beautiful, broken girl,

"you don't understand me.

_None _of you do."

It was like a slap to the face. Instantly, Haymitch's face contorted itself into a mask of a man furious and angry, so, so _very _angry that Cato was almost _afraid _of him.

Was this the face of the boy who'd killed his way to the top and won the Games all those years ago?

Cato didn't want to know.

"Could you," Haymitch spoke slowly, trembling and quaking with a quiet _rage_, a fury so tightly restrained, so barely contained, "repeat that once more? I didn't quite catch that."

Cato noted the tight clenching of his fists, the way his teeth gritted and body quaked, threatening to blow at any minute,

Katniss obviously didn't.

"You heard me," Katniss replied, almost monotone, her eyes finally meeting Haymitch's own, "I said you. Don't. _Fucking. _Understand. Me."

Cato felt his own hands clench.

Then, everything fell to pieces.

"How could you _dare _even try to, try to imagine what I'm going through?" Katniss shouted, her eyes hateful yet devoid of the fire that made Cato come alive, "how could you _even _try to _comprehend _the nightmare I live _every. Single. Day,_" she accused, "when you have no idea what it feels like, what it feels to be all _alone _and to have the only boy you've ever loved _die _by your own fault? How can you understand me, Haymitch," Katniss sneered, to caught up in her hate and bitterness to notice the mess she was digging herself in, "when you practically are living the _dream _with your alcohol and your stupid entitlement to luxury, whilst I'm here wondering when all this will just _end_," Katniss confessed angrily, regrettably, "when this nightmare will just _stop _and I'll wake up and never go to sleep again? How could you understand how it feels to see one of the only people you'll ever love in your dreams, keeping you warm and soothing you with gentle words and touches, as if they're almost _there, with you_, holding you in the night, (at this Cato choked), "only to wake up and realise they're not there? That it was all just a dream!" Katniss by now had risen to her feet, huffing as her eyes seemed to well with tears that did not exist nor wanted to come, something that broke her heart even further,

"how do you know, what it feels like, to have someone _die _because it was all. Your. Fault," Katniss finally finished, her voice rising to a crescendo as Cato stayed pinned in his seat, Effie all the while quivering as she studiously busied herself with polishing the mahogany.

Haymitch was quiet, his eyes taking on a vacant, almost _dead _look that matched her own.

Katniss enjoyed it.

Everything had fallen still.

"That's right, isn't it," Katniss finally sneered, icy and frigidly heartless in the moments of silence which she interpreted as her victory, "you _wouldn't _understand, would you? You're just an old _drunk_," Katniss finally hissed, every word spitting with venom and hate,

"Haymitch, District 12's pathetic excuse for a Mentor, never having lost anyone he's ever loved... just a sad, pathetic, pitiful, lonely loser..."

"Katniss...!" Effie exclaimed, appalled at Katniss' barbaric insults. Really, now she had gone too far...!

"And you too!" Katniss whipped at Effie, hostile and still very much on her rampage to ruin everyone's day, just as Peeta's death had ruined the rest of hers, "why are you even still here? To bask in the fame and the glory, that you didn't even win yourself," Katniss jabbed ruthlessly, "or are you here to try to convince me too that everything's fine and dandy and that by pretending to love this boy I so obviously _hate_," Katniss spoke shrilly, gesturing to the blonde.

"Face it Effie, you're just as worthless as that pathetic excuse for a Mentor I have too."

Now, the Capitol woman's eyes began to swim with tears, quivering on the spot before she stormed out of the room, sobs filling the air.

Cato's eyes focused on the brown-haired girl, arms folded neatly on the table as his eyes scanned over her intensely.

Now, it was just him left.

"What? You're going to try convince me too that _you _understand me too? That I've become this crazy, psychopath Victor that no one's ever going to love?" Katniss hissed at him incessantly, hands placed firmly on her hips as her eyes glared into his own reflective blue ones.

"Are you going to tell me that I've become some lunatic, some hate-filled _monster _who destroys everything it loves? Because I don't care anymore, Cato," Katniss finally confessed, arms dropping to her sides as her voice converted itself into that of a tired, broken, weary girl, "I just don't care anymore.

I have _nothing _left in this world."

Inwardly, the District 12 girl contemplated why, of all people, she was telling the one she hated most in the room about her feelings. But the truth was she was tired, she was angry, and she just couldn't _care _anymore. Caring meant that she actually _felt _something in the world, valued it even the tiniest bit, her existence, her life, but the truth was she didn't.

She couldn't bring herself to _care _anymore.

"No, Katniss," she finally heard a voice say, _his_ voice say, "you're not a monster.

You're just empty on the inside."

Instantly, Katniss' eyes fluttered as she felt a surge of surprise grip her chest. Suddenly, Katniss felt herself knocked off her reign of rage as she tried to regain her composure.

_Wait... what?_

Katniss' eyes burned into Cato's face, as she sought answers, anything, that would possibly give away what the ex-Career was thinking and feeling right now.

_What...?_

"You're not a monster, and you're not unloved," Cato replied casually, his voice low and sincere, both dizzying and confusing her as she felt herself grow unsteady on her feet, her world spin around her, "and you haven't lose everything.

You've just lost your reason to live."

Cato, so sincere, so thoughtful, so _truthful _in this one moment, this single moment in the shit-storm that had become the past few minutes... Cato, whom she hated and cursed to the depths of his hopefully painful grave. Cato, who had never appeared so beautiful now than ever in her whole entire time of knowing him.

Here, Katniss found her ray of hope, her fragment to keep on living.

Unfortunately, she just couldn't see it.

And, with the confusion hammering in her heart, and her utter contempt for how Cato had in one moment transformed himself before her eyes, Katniss stormed out of the room, not once daring to look back.

Cato simply watched.

.

.

.

Katniss felt a searing heat press against her chest as her nails dug into her skin, eyes practically _livid _with fire as her head attempted to wrap around the very idea of the blonde boy.

_Oh, how she hated him so._

How could he have done it? Whilst everyone else had fallen apart, engulfed and incinerated in her flames of pure hatred, he had remained intact and untouched, almost _immune _to the destruction of her every word and move. One moment, he was threatening to kill her, the next, he was telling her all about her real feelings and convincing her to keep on living.

In other words, he alluded her grasp on him, both bewildering her and attracting her, an enigma she was certain she hated soothing her with his words and actions.

And for that, she hated him.

The heat grew even hotter, spreading throughout her whole body now.

She hated him.

And for some odd reason, she _liked _it.

Maybe it was how intense his eyes were, all the time, always watching and waiting... or how his blond hair and blue eyes so swimmingly matched that of Peeta's, a comparison she herself could not _bear _to make for fear of tearing the world to shreds... whatever the reason, Cato gave her an anger that she couldn't contain.

And Katniss wanted that fire more than anything right now.

More than _Peeta _himself.

The guilt of liking something Cato had given her however, something she had suddenly wanted more than _Peeta _himself, the thought that _Cato,_ despite the fact that the very thing he had given her was a reason to _hate _him suddenly shut her down just as quickly as she had begun to flare up.

_Cato. I can't think about stupid Cato or how much I hate him. I hate him._

_I don't care about him._

even though his words and thoughts haunted her mind for hours on end...

_I just want Peeta._

_I just _need _Peeta._

_I don't care about him._

even if she_ had_ thought to think him 'beautiful' at one point_..._

_I don't care about Cato!_

_I hate him, _Katniss tried to tell herself again, forcefully, almost too forcefully now,

_I hate Cato just as much as I hate feeling this way, empty and goddamn _broken,

_I hate living this way, hoping Peeta will just come back._

_I hate how, even now, all I can think of is myself, wanting to _feel _something again when Peeta is dead and it's all my fault..._

Katniss paused momentarily. And then,

_I don't care about _myself _either._

_I hate who I am too, just like I hate Cato._

_I hate how he's always right..._

And, it was for that reason, that Katniss curled herself into a tighter ball and desperately wished to herself over and over for Peeta to just come back to her and give her her artificial _warmth _once more.

.

.

.

When Cato slipped into her room, footsteps as light as air, movements as soundless as an ant trudging across the forest floor itself, he almost felt a twinge of reluctance before making his way to her bed, before finally curling onto the bed next to her.

_Katniss, _Cato thought softly as he buried his face into the back of her head, because he's honest as fuck confused and honestly doesn't know _just what he's doing anymore. _

_Katniss, what have you done to me?_

And perhaps it was just the small fact that it was 2 am, and he'd been hard at work all day just _thinking _and sitting in his room, but when Cato felt his fingers begin to trace their way across Katniss' cheek and stroke it softly, the only thing he can think is _how soft it is and how natural it feels to be beside her, right next to her.__  
><em>

God, he'd never felt more _confused_ in his entire life.

How could he have let himself do it? Now for sure there was no way that he was just going through some 'phase' that somehow gave him feelings for her. There was no way that touching Katniss, just _lying _beside her should feel _this _good, that staring at her should make him feel _this _heartbroken and enchanted at the same time, that just _talking _to her in pure honesty rather than barbed and hurtful insults should feel _this _natural to him, almost as if she was just some girl that he genuinely wanted to get to know, not some girl who he thought about killing (and had tried to) every single day.

Why was this happening to him?

Somehow, Cato had lost himself along the way.

And somehow, Katniss had managed to take over him.

"_Katniss_..." Cato whispered softly, his eyes softening at her delicate form. In here, away from all the hate and hurting, she really _was _a beautiful girl.

And then it happened, and that's when Cato realised he'd screwed up, _big time._

_Trapped._

A soft voice permeated the darkness, almost binding him to his inevitable fate.

_Fuck..._

"Peeta, is that you?"

.

.

.

This time, Katniss was certain.

This time, Katniss was certain she wasn't sleeping any longer.

Now, more than ever, Peeta's warmth and gentle gestures and touches seemed real, fare more real than they ever had been. She could have _sworn _she'd felt the way the bed creaked softly as he collapsed into bed right behind her, cradling her body with his own. This couldn't have been pure imagination anymore. Katniss could feel herself choking up, as if she was suffocating from the intense gravity of the situation at hand, weighing down and crushing her shoulders.

Was Peeta _alive?_

_No, he can't be, _Katniss tried to reassure herself pointedly, eyes still glued shut as she hovered between what was real and not real. Yes, even the sensation of _warm, _real _breath _blowing softly against the back of her head was there, even further confirming her doubts and suspicions.

Then again, she _had _been in rather unfit state as of late. The repetitive dreams that kept her imagining that Peeta was there, despite the fact that he was _dead, _that she had seen him _die _right before her eyes, the way her body seemed elusive of everything goddamn feeling that humans were supposed to feel, were supposed to experience as part of their primal nature. She'd spent the past few mornings rocking back and forth, silently praying that Peeta had somehow miraculously survived death against all odds. How different would it be from all her other previous delusions to suddenly imagine that this time she truly _was _awake and conscious, the sensation of a human being lying next to her nothing more than her body's desperate need for that _warmth _again?

What if she was just imagining things again?

She wasn't _that _insane, was she?

Katniss took a steady breath. If Peeta didn't reply, then it meant that her mind was just once again trying to feed her memories of him again, in which case she would hopelessly concede herself to another temporary dream with him. And if he did answer her...

maybe, just maybe...

She took another breath, eyes still squeezed tight.

It was all or nothing.

"Peeta, is that you?"

The silence in reply was deafening.

It took every bit that Katniss had left not to cry and shut herself away right then and there.

_I just don't know what to do anymore..._

so, breathing deeply, Katniss allowed her eyes to shut even tighter ash she allowed herself to drift away.

Drift further from reality than she'd ever been.

.

.

.

"Peeta," Katniss finally spoke again, voice soft, sad, and shocking Cato into a certain lucidness, "Peeta, I know you're not really here. And I know you're dead, and that your body isn't whatever's making me feel all safe and warm," Katniss continued, her voice practically _dripping _with grief and pain, "and I know I'm crazy, talking to a dead boy, but I... I just don't know what to do any more," Katniss' voice broke, as she shuddered against his own harder, warmer frame.

Cato remained quiet as Katniss continued.

"I'm, I'm just sick of all this," the girl next to him confessed wholeheartedly, as if the presence of 'Peeta' was the key to her heart and all her secrets, enough to make the usually emotionally-challenged girl to spill all her feelings out for _him_, for _Peeta, _"and I haven't been able to sleep well for days knowing you're always there, waiting for me in my dreams, fooling me into thinking you're real and everything's fine again only to have you vanish when I wake up," she continued, as Cato's heart clenched. Was this _really _the Girl on Fire, who had captured his attention what seemed like years ago with her _fire _and her cold, hard-edge? Was this really the girl who had speared another Tribute so cold-heartedly one minute and wept over and decorated with flowers the body of another?

Cato just couldn't see it any more.

And for some reason, that made him want the old Katniss, the old, _real _Katniss, back all the more.

The again, _he _had done this to her.

_He _had broken her in the end.

_But I didn't enjoy it, _Cato told himself, not knowing why it bothered him so much now, _I didn't enjoy seeing her like this. I didn't... I never thought - _

"Peeta," Katniss finally said, as Cato's mind shut itself up, "I know you can't hear me. And I know you probably would hate me if you could, hate me for all I've done," Katniss let out shakily, "but I just, I just _really _need this right now. I just need to let someone else _know_, even if they're just a figment of my dreams, know what I'm going through.

'Because I don't think I can do this on my own any more, Peeta. I think I'm _broken, _and there's nothing in this whole world that can _fix _me any more. I'm... I'm not even _myself _any more. I keep getting angry at people who don't deserve it, at people who are just trying to help, but it just falls to _pieces_, like everything just keeps getting worse and worse. And I don't think I can _take _it any more, not being who I was any more. I just feel so _empty_, and I hate it so much. I hate who I've become and I hate the way I feel.

But most of all," Katniss heaved, as Cato felt himself pull her closer to him, tearless sobs racking her body, wishing, just wishing, that somehow Peeta really _did _come back to life, if only to make things okay for her again, "I hate how I've become _this, _become this pathetic excuse for a _human_," she confessed bitterly, as Cato's arms tightened around her firmer than before, his goal to remain undetected now dissipated in exchange for that of comforting the very girl who was falling apart before him, falling apart _because _of him, "and I hate how it only took _you _being taken away from me to become _this, _become this _ruined. _And in the end, I still can't hate _him_, hate him for doing this."

_Him?_

Cato's heart stopped.

"I still can't hate _Cato _for taking you away, for making me _this_," and now Katniss burst out into full sobs, trembling so uncontrollably that Cato, despite having thought himself incapable of love and gentleness all these years, hugged her closer than he had ever hugged something, poured so much more tenderness into something he was sure hated him more than anything, "because I just don't know how I _feel _about him, the way he seems to _understand _me the most, the way that, out of everyone, he's the only one I can't seem to wholeheartedly hate...! That, in the end, I hate myself more than I hate him...!"

Suddenly, Cato felt his world spin around him, his head aching with discovery and shock. She... she _didn't _hate him, as much as she hated _herself? _He... _understood _her the most? Instantly, Cato felt another jab to his chest, reeling in confusion and utter bewilderment at Katniss' revelation. Was _this _the true Katniss, the girl beneath the tough and hardened exterior, too afraid and in grief to admit her feelings to someone, even her closest friends? Was this the _real _Katniss, just the same as the Girl on Fire, except that she had simply been stripped of all her fire, plunged in darkness as she pleaded for someone, _anyone _to listen?

Was this the _real _him, prideful and bloodthirsty Cato, who, so certain of hating Katniss Everdeen since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, genuinely _did _have feelings for her he himself were unsure of nor recognised?

Was everything that had happened the past few weeks even _real _any more?

"And it _scares_ me, Peeta," Katniss confessed, voice devoid of any enthusiasm, simply that of someone who was tired and had given up on continuing on, "I'm so _scared. _And I don't know what to do anymore, Peeta. I'm _broken_.

And there's nothing I can do about it."

And that was when Cato felt it. On his arm; one small, insignificant, tiny drop of a tear.

It was one tear, but it was enough.

Enough for Cato to realise that his goal in life now was not to kill Katniss.

It was to keep her alive.

He would fix her.


	8. Almond

**A/N: **Okay... so I know this hasn't been updated in roughly a whole _year _now, and I'm so so sorry. When I go back to read your reviews (and read each and every one of them, I assure you) I feel so awful that I haven't been able to thank you guys properly by updating regularly. So once again, I am really sorry._  
><em>

But the good news is, is that I'm back and ready to roll :) I got caught up with lots of stuff and different fandoms (I'm so fickle haha) last year, but I made myself a promise that I would finish each and every single story I write and this one is my absolute favourite to write. In spite of how long it's been since I last wrote, this story is the one I most vividly recall on how it will progress and end. My only reluctance in writing is that I maybe a bit rusty from disuse, but the only way to remedy such a problem is by writing more :) So I hope you enjoy.

Thank you so much to my readers and reviewers, who have supported me throughout. I honestly don't deserve you guys, so thank you so much. This one's for you.

Also, to address some questions/issues raised in some of the reviews:

**Q. Are they on the Victory Tour currently?**

Okay, I'm going to be honest... one of the biggest problems I had with writing this story is that I had _no _idea what exactly they were supposed to be doing while all of this was unfolding... initially, they were supposed to be on the Victory Tour but then I looked it up and it said that the Victory Tour only occurs halfway between the next Games, so it's too early in my story for it to be so. Thus, I'm just going to make it that they remain in the Capitol until the Victory Tour because President Snow has made the unusual request for them to do so so that they can "build" their image to the public that they're in love, etc. Hope that makes sense, it'll be explained further in the story.

**Q. What about Prim? Isn't she something for Katniss to live for?  
><strong>  
>This will be addressed later in the story :)<p>

**Q. How does Cato 'understand' Katniss? Are they in love?**

Well, I tried to write it so that Katniss seems so confused, ruined and broken that she's sort of 'deluding' herself into seeking hope wherever she can. Katniss feels as if everyone's turned on her and doesn't understand what she's going through, and that she's pretty much alone in the world alongside her own pain and sorrow (I'm not really sure even Cato realises how much he understands about Katniss to be honest). When Cato offered those words to her, she was disarmed because she had convinced herself that she truly was alone and was a monster. Cato's words offered her the 'light' that she was seeking so desperately for, though she wasn't sure what to do with it because it was from _Cato _himself. Katniss doesn't really hate him, she's just bitter about everything, which will be explored further in the story.

And as of the story so far, unfortunately they're far from love so far :( ! I'd love to just rush in, but considering the delicacy of the situation they're in, as well as the fact they were mortal enemies just a little while ago, it's going to take a while for Cato and especially Katniss to reach that point in their realisation. So far however, Cato seems to be more empathetic and understanding of Katniss. What he feels for her is more than just the usual worry/anxiety/friendliness, but it's not quite love just yet.

**Q. Doesn't Katniss know about Haymitch's past?**

Unfortunately, Katniss is so far ignorant in her grief and anguish that she doesn't know about Haymitch's past. But this will be resolved in an upcoming chapter !

* * *

><p><strong>Broken<strong>

by _sweetlittlething_

**Chapter Eight: **Almond

_x.x.x_

_"If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand_

_Hope you find out what you are; already know what I am_  
><em>And if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again<em>  
><em>You can tell me how vile I already know that I am<em>  
><em>I'll grow old, start acting my age<em>  
><em>It'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate<em>  
><em>A crown of gold, a heart that's harder than stone<em>  
><em>And it hurts to hold on, but it's missed when it's gone<em>

_Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not_  
><em>I'm glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget<em>

_You are calm and reposed_  
><em>Let your beauty unfold<em>  
><em>Pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones<em>  
><em>Spring keeps you ever close<em>  
><em>You are second-hand smoke<em>  
><em>You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins<em>  
><em>Holding on to yourself the best you can<em>  
><em>You are the smell before rain<em>  
><em>You are the blood in my veins<em>

_Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not_  
><em>I'm glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes,<em>

_you can_

_forget."_

- _The Boy who Blocked his own Shot_, Brand New

.

.

.

"Did I ever tell you about the time my father taught me how to swim?"

It had been like this for three days now, and even still Cato could not find himself tiring of listening to her voice. Her stories about her little sister's goat, about the day she'd got her first bow and arrows, even the very day that started it all, the day of the Reaping. Everything, Katniss would pour out to him, her words and memories drawing maps and images in his mind as he bore the mask of her dead lover, hiding the monster he truly was. It was almost perfect, lying beside her as she opened up her heart to him.

Cato gazed at her peaceful, radiant face, blue eyes taking in every eyelash, every freckle and every stray strand of hair.

She was _perfect._

Though relations between the both of them as well as she and her comrades hadn't necessarily improved, she certainly _had _been of a rather more agreeable temperament as of late. Instead of the taut, tense anger and grief that had been coiling in the pit of her stomach ever since _that day_, Cato had noticed a more static, far _calmer _side of her than he'd ever seen in a long, long time. Of course, the sadness and unhappiness still lingered in her presence, whenever Cato would note the bowing of her head and her refusal to make contact with any of them, but at least they could all be thankful for what improvement she had made so far. She was an empty shell by day and a vibrant, breathing _human _at night. Cato knew there was no way he could rush her.

Turning back to the girl nestled peacefully in their sheets (when had it become '_their' _sheets and not just her's, Cato didn't know), Cato allowed himself to grace his lips with the tiniest hint of a smile, before it flashed off once more. One habit of his that was instilled by his Career upbringing: never show emotions. Even the slightest hint of happiness or sadness, and your enemies would attach to it like a parasite, clinging to it until they'd defeated you.

Emotions were a weakness.

But for Katniss, he was willing to allow himself to be weak, if only just to see her smile.

Slowly, Cato let his fingers wrap around her own, to which a warm smile slowly spread itself across her face, a stab of hot warmth now flaring steadily in his chest.

Again, he smiled.

They could be_ perfect_.

And then, just as quickly as it was there, it was gone once more, extinguished with her next words.

"_Peeta_," Katniss suddenly breathed, as if it were the most beautiful name in the world.

She uttered _his _name.

Cato's hand dropped, and instantly the dream was destroyed.

The warmth was gone, and again he was filled with the same nagging, painfully noticeable ache that he'd be filled with ever since he'd made that vow to her; that promise to save her.

_Peeta, _the name echoed ominously in his head.

_If only he could stop pretending._

For it didn't matter in the end, even if she agreed it was downright stupid to cry and would instead snuggle into his embrace, perfectly content in her little fantasy. It didn't matter in the end, that the spilling of the contents of her heart and very being all for him made him feel all warm and oddly sentimental. It didn't matter, when she'd simply resigned herself into a soft singing of a song, stroking his hair, as if it were just she and he in the world.

He wasn't _him._

He wasn't _Peeta._

And pretending that he was just wasn't good enough anymore.

_But... _Cato allowed his eyes to glide over the sleeping girl's face once more. Free of tension, utterly at ease... was this what she was like back home, snuggled safe and sound in the comfort of her pitiful coal-mining home? Was this what she could have been like, _forever, _eternal sunshine, if the Games had never existed, if _this _had never happened?

In an entirely different life, one free of death and slaughter as a form of sick entertainment, where Districts could prosper and support one another, and the children were free to play without fear and simply be _alive,_ could Katniss Everdeen, maybe, just maybe, ever have been truly _happy_?

Happy...

_with him?_

The thought was almost enough for Cato to whisk Katniss in his arms and promise to hold her forever himself.

And, once, just once, Cato allowed himself one stupid wish.

_Let Katniss be happy with me forever._

It was a stupid wish indeed.

Once again, as cold as the bitter winds of winter; as inevitable as the wilting of a flower, the cruel grip of reality snatched those dreams from him, crushing them mercilessly right before his very eyes.

How could she ever love him, he reflected grimly, angrily, if _he _was the reason for her current state of emptiness?

If _he _had done _this _to her?

But still, she had admitted to him tearfully on that fateful night, the night he had swore to return her happiness, she had found herself unable to _hate _him. Him, who had done this to her, who had ruined her, _broken _her. Who had stripped her of all joy, of all life. Somehow, amidst all the unfulfilled promises and empty words he had convinced her to channel that hate upon him onto someone else.

Someone like _herself._

Even now, Cato could not help but feel uneasy about it. _She hates herself? _Cato had thought as he stared at her oblivious face, so weak, so vulnerable. Again, the words echoed tonelessly in his head, both mocking and pitying him at the same time.

_You did this, _it would say, over and over,

_you did this to her._

Cato shook his head, again feeling the same heavy sense of reality sinking back into him dreadfully. No, it didn't matter how much it hurt, how much _this _hurt, being the unloved substitute for Katniss' dead boyfriend. Here, beside him and dreaming, Katniss was _happy._

And that was good enough.

Bleakly, Cato allowed himself to shut his eyes, his senses enveloped in nothing more than warmth and an artificial love he knew could never be.

_Just this wish then, _he told no one in particular, as he drifted off to sleep to a world where he too could immerse himself in a fake paradise, where _he _was the one Katniss lavished with her reserved displays of love, as sparse and as precious as gold itself,

_let Katniss be happy._

.

.

.

The three days that had passed since Katniss' outburst had been painfully tense and silent, so much that even _Katniss_ wanted someone to say something, anything. After her sudden outpouring of harsh words, the District 12 Victor had been arriving at an empty table, the only remnants that her mentor and her Capitol-born comrade being there the unwashed plates and careless bread crumbs scattered across the tablecloth. At one point she'd wished that even _Cato _would walk in on one stage and just sit and eat with her. The isolation and loneliness was driving her _mad._

Of course, Katniss felt horrid after all that she had done. She knew that those sobs she'd heard down the hall were Effie's, and that those empty alcohol bottles strewn across the lounge as well as the faint scent of it in the air hadn't just come up out of nowhere. She wanted to apologize, _wanted _to say something, but every time she summoned up the courage to do so, she just couldn't.

She was afraid.

It was a hard thing to admit, and Katniss didn't even _dare _think of admitting it out loud. The only other times she had been afraid was when she had lost all hope that she could continue to support her family after her father's death as well as that time where Rue's screams had echoed throughout the whole forest... and, of course, when she had practically watched, helpless, as Peeta struggled against Cato's grip before the light finally went out in his eyes. Katniss felt her eyes squeeze tight as she felt her head swim at the memory, her fingers suddenly seeking the familiar solidness of an unoccupied chair as a means to steady herself. And besides, who would listen? With her brutal attacks towards Effie and Haymitch, as well as her reluctance to relay her feelings to Cinna, the girl was truly alone.

Inwardly, Katniss was screaming, pleading someone, anyone, to help.

But no one could hear her.

And it killed her everyday to continue her life as such.

She needed someone to listen to her, anyone. She supposed that was why she'd suddenly conjure up Peeta during the nights, her loneliness driving her to such an extent that she even began to _imagine _things, just to satiate her own pathetic need for companionship. In the Games, Katniss had never found it hard to remain as a lone-wolf, her original plan being stalking the arena on her own until she managed to outlast the others. But now, the isolation was _killing _her, her desire to release all her thoughts and feelings driving her into a dizzying descent which led to nowhere but her own demise.

She was pitiful; an empty husk of what she once was. The Girl on Fire, extinguished.

_Pathetic._

Katniss felt her eyes squeeze shut once more, an automatic mechanism that happened nowadays any time something became too painful, too much.

She truly was alone.

And she just had to deal with it.

She just wanted everything to be over as soon as possible, so she could just be done with all the bullshit that came with the horrific Games. When President Snow had sent them a message commanding that they remain in the Capitol-controlled vicinity so that she and Cato could continue to play up their supposed "love affair", Katniss could have sworn she was just about ready to draw her bow upon herself. To be stuck with Cato up until the Victory Tour... if God was playing a cruel game on her, He'd definitely won. Nowadays, in all honesty, she was beginning to question if there truly _was _even a higher power in existence.

Faith was just another casualty in a life such as hers.

If only she could leave, if only she could just escape this mess, leaving it behind her forever, even if she knew deep down it never would. She knew that she was a coward to try and run away from her problems rather than seek a way to plow through it, to overcome it, but Katniss had reached a stage in her life where she just didn't _care. _If she didn't care about whether she made it to see another day, she certainly had no time to care about something as petty as being a _coward._

She supposed the only thing getting her through the day now was when it was overcome by the dark, when _Peeta _would suddenly slip back into her life and into her bed. Katniss couldn't help but feel a surge of improvement in her otherwise miserable state whenever she thought of it. It was as if her life suddenly took a turn for the better whenever the moon would rise up; the big, giant orb in the sky symbolising _life, goodness, _him. There, in her bed, under the cover of the night, _that _was when Katniss truly felt even remotely alive again.

By this point in her life the broken girl had come to the conclusion that she _was _mad after all, that the Games had not only _broken _her emotionally, but mentally as well. It was almost pitiful really, she would think to herself bitterly. All her life Katniss had willed herself to be strong, to keep soldiering on, but with just another friend dead in the Game of death itself, as well as having to deal with the fact you and your sworn nemesis, the murderer of your first and last love, were being forced into a romance all for the publicity, she wasn't sure if she could take it any more. And, of course, the constant delusions of said dead lover every time she went to bed.

She could have sworn it, sworn that he _was _real, that Peeta had never departed from her side after all. The warmth, she could have sworn... it was so _real_, as real as the dull ache in her heart and the vivid memories that would plague her mind whenever she allowed a quiet moment to herself. At times, even when she was sure she was awake, she could _feel _him at times, hugging her, soothing her with quiet murmurings against her hair. Katniss wanted to open her eyes, to bury herself into his chest and cry like the sentimental fool she never was... but she couldn't. Opening her eyes meant reality.

And reality meant nothing but pain and a long-gone, dead boy.

To survive in reality, Katniss had to cling to her delusions.

But in clinging to her delusions, little did Katniss know, she only further lost her grip on the cruel reality she had come to associate only with pain and heartache.

She didn't care.

.

.

.

And so the days passed by, and life went on and on, unforgiving and merciless to all in its way. Whilst Haymitch continued to drown his sorrows in drink, and Effie continued her days sobbing until her mascara ran down her cheeks rather unprettily, the girl from District 12 remained as immobile and isolated as ever, sinking deeper and deeper into her very destruction as she clung harder and harder to the dead boy known only as 'Peeta'.

And still, all Cato could do was watch.

What _could _he do, other than sit and watch as she literally fell apart before his eyes? Not a single word had been uttered throughout the entire group with the exception of Katniss' nightly confessions to her dead lover, and though Cato wanted to reach out to her, do something, say _anything_, to shout at her to stop, to scream at her to end this tragic story, stop her before she orchestrated her own demise, he was powerless. It was an odd feeling the Victor and former Career could not adjust to at all nor come to terms with it, but he could not deny it:

for once in his life, the monster from District 2 was utterly, undeniably _helpless._

He hated it, having something out of his control, something he himself could not do anything about. He supposed that was why he had difficulty in continuing his endeavours to entice the old Katniss, the _real _Katniss to re-surface, his feelings for her and drive to do so utterly unfounded and totally out of his control. He _knew _he wanted to help her, he _knew _he desperately sought out her smile, her light, but as to whether he wanted to feel that way or not was utterly beyond his comprehension. Sometimes, he'd even bitterly wished he could switch off his care for her, wished he could return to the old days, back when he couldn't care less whether she lived or died.

But Cato knew, deep down, bitterly, almost regrettably, those old days were well behind him.

Usually, Cato would have had no problem at all in doing what he wanted, getting as he pleased. He had been raised as a fiercely intimidating as well as demanding young man, both direct and blunt about his wants and desires. If Cato's times for running certain laps weren't good enough, he trained harder. If someone displeased him, he simply broke their necks. It was easy for him, almost as natural to him as breathing itself.

But handling Katniss: _that _was different.

Sometimes, Cato had actually planned on doing something, on actually reaching out to her. But as usual, reality would grip him cruelly, shaking him mercilessly as he succumbed to its cold hard facts. For one, if he showed actual concern to her, would she care? If she hadn't been responsive to her own _mentor's _attempts to reach her, what hope did he, her enemy, have in doing so? And then, Cato dreaded coldly, what if she wanted to know _why_? What if she asked him a question even _still _he couldn't find an adequate reason to?

That thought scared Cato more than anything.

"Cato. Katniss," a slurred voice suddenly called from down the hall one day, the blonde's head swivelling round sharply to address the new intruder's voice as his blue eyes caught the sight of Katniss' dishevelled mentor clearly, "President Snow wants you guys up and dressed," the past District 12 Victor slurred savagely, his form reeking of the stench of alcohol and putridness, "it's time."

Cato turned his eyes back to the stoic girl sitting on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest and eyes blank, staring into nothingness with such an intensity that Cato wasn't sure if anyone was even _in _there. Maybe, this would be good for her. Occupying her with something other than God knows what ran through her mind each and every numbingly-deafening day, her presence mute and subdued as the days stretched on and on for her.

_Maybe, _Cato thought distantly as the girl with the dark braid remained as static and as _dead _as usual, face pulled into a clean, empty slate, _I could be good for her._

It was a lie, he knew. The biggest and most treacherous of lies, spun for his sole pleasure and comfort as the cold deadness of grey eyes came to lie upon him blankly, looking at him as if her were nothing more than a wall, nothing more than the trunk of an unassuming tree. But like any other foolish human being, Cato could not help but fold into the embrace of his lie, finding solace in the darkness of its crevices. Maybe, he could let reality get away from him. Just for a little while.

It was a nice thought.

_Maybe... _he thought one last time, seeing the flash of a smiling girl with a smile as beautiful as the sun pass before his eyes, chocolate tresses bound in their usual practical yet beloved braid, her eyes of a silver so sharp, so slick regarding him with gentle warmth.

_Maybe._

The word hung with so much hope, so much spirit, like the way a child would plant a flower in the middle of winter and would hope against hope that it would survive, that it would flourish and live.

But Cato knew it was all just a lie.

The flower would undoubtedly, unfailingly,

_wilt._

.

.

.

It seemed that in no time Katniss and her fellow Victor were all prepped and ready for the cameras, Katniss' dark hair curled effortlessly into elegant waves whilst Cato's golden hair looked as flawless and as impeccable as ever. Thankfully enough this time Katniss had complied to the request without hassle or complaint, her feelings of lethargy and loneliness having accumulated over the past few days to such an extent that she was willing to accept any opportunity to be in the presence of another living, _breathing _human being at all. It was pretty pitiful and pathetic but Katniss didn't care. Not anymore, anyway.

Briefly, the miserably-numb teenager looked down at what she was wearing, quietly reflecting on how her hair and makeup session had gone. This time, apparently, Cinna and Cato's stylist had co-ordinated on the two Victors' look, Katniss dressed in a gracefully demure yet fearless Grecian-inspired number whilst Cato was clothed in a just as regal toga of his own, the epitome of power and perfection as always. Both looked fittingly the parts of an Emperor and his Empress, the pair of them each adorned with a pure gold wreath atop each of their heads. Flavia would have probably complimented Katniss on how beautiful she looked, if only the tension that existed in the dressing room hadn't been so palpable. Even the usually chatty Octavia had remained quiet as she had busied herself with Katniss' makeup.

Discreetly, Katniss allowed herself a quick glance at the fellow Tribute standing next to her, the blonde District 2 native as cold and as impressionable, as ever. Instantly, Katniss felt her eyes narrow at his emotionless blue eyes and blank, stern face, her head swimming madly as she tried to get her bearings on him. Vaguely, the young District 12 native felt her mind begin to wander as her thoughts turned to much deeper, much more confusing things she just didn't want to deal with right now. _What is he thinking right now? And why should I care? _

That was what she hated about Cato; he made her head spin and her insides clench terribly, never knowing _how _exactly she felt about him. Katniss knew, only logically, that she should hate him, be furious with him and blame for all of this, for what he had made _her. _But she couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't that she had somehow foolishly fallen in love with him or come to consider him as a friend; no, that would be stupid, but his unpredictable nature as of late had instilled in her a sense of temporary "truce" around him. It was exhausting having to constantly keep up a state of wariness around him.

Needless to say, dwelling on the hateful enigma that was the boy from District 2 was not good for Katniss' already fragile mental state.

Gulping abruptly, and harshly steering her mind away from the coolly-impassive boy still refusing to acknowledge her pensive gaze on him, Katniss turned her attention to Haymitch and Effie again, once more sinking into the misery that had been eating away at her the past few days. As her fingers clenched the soft, supple fabric of her white, gossamer dress, Katniss couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut for one moment, the memories of their pained faces and strained voices violently assaulting her mind. Why couldn't things return to the way they used to be? Why did it have to be _her _of all people who had to go through all this shit, why couldn't it be someone who deserved it?_  
><em>

Someone like...

Katniss' eyes flickered once back to the boy standing beside her before flickering to the ground once more.

She didn't want to dwell on that thought any longer.

_Think of something positive, something pleasant and good..._

instantly, a pair of blue, warm eyes, soft, blonde hair and a crooked, firm smile flitted seamlessly into the troubled girl's mind, allowing herself to be caught up in the euphoria of such a beautiful, perfect sight before feeling reality crash back down on her again.

It was deadly, how easily the human spirit could soar high before being irrefutably crushed back down to the ground once more.

Especially when one realized that one of the only things they had ever been grateful for in life so happened to be dead.

Katniss didn't realise how tightly she had been clenching the fabric of her dress until she suddenly felt a warm, yet hesitantly-unsure hand fall upon her forearm, drawing her from her thoughts as she found herself looking into yet _another _pair of blue, beautiful, cursed eyes.

Oh, how she hated fate for ruining the colour blue for her.

"What do you want?" Katniss instantly hissed, recoiling furiously as she pulled away from her fellow Victor's clutch. Katniss had been longing for contact with another human being for days now; to so adamantly refuse it when it was finally offered to her was just another example of how screwed up and ruined her life was at the moment. Not that she could care anymore, anyway.

It would only do her good for so long to keep telling herself that.

Practically seething, and _loving _the fire of her temper sparking within her, Katniss watched Cato's distant and resigned face closely, scrutinizing him angrily. Forget trying to remain indifferent to him and his fickle, confusing ways; right now, the dark-haired hunter was_ enjoying_ the anger and bewilderment coursing through her veins, the heat quenching her of a thirst she did not care to identify. It was highly irrational, but Katniss had long concluded she was crazy and bitter. Nothing more than a shell occupied by hollowness and loathing.

After a few seconds, the blonde-haired Victor finally replied, carelessly lifting his eyes from off her own to the grand, burgundy drapes that were currently concealing them from the audience's view. Once more, that satisfyingly-sharp pang of rage hit her square in the chest, igniting her senses terribly. It seemed all Cato could do lately was simultaneously confuse and infuriate her to no end._  
><em>

Again, it was better than feeling nothing.

A favour granted by the massive boy Katniss wouldn't _dare _thank him for, ever.

"Just..." Cato drifted off calmly, lazily, as if he were struggling to find the words, the countdown for them to make their way to stage going off in the background distantly, irrelevantly, as he shifted closer and closer to her despite her obvious abhorrence to him doing so earlier, "don't..."

Katniss swallowed thickly as he leaned even closer towards her, the applause echoing throughout the stadium _almost _enough to drown out what he said next, his lips so close to her ear she could literally feel the hot breath on her skin, the scent of his very being permeating her senses as she struggled to maintain the anger that had flowed so fiercely within her just moments before:

"don't disappoint Snow."

.

.

.

After the interview, which had been peppered with wonderfully-executed artificial smiles and painfully-sweet exchanges, the two Victors had parted ways, Cato congratulated once again by his Stylists and Mentor for his excellent performance whereas Katniss retreated to the solitude of her room, knees drawn up against her chest as she listened to nothing particularly at all. The only reason she had tried so hard for that interview was because she was so fearful of Snow that she didn't want to show even the slightest hint of rebellion against him. As pathetic as it was, even she was still scared of the disquieting man, roses and all.

And of course, Cato's words.

How did it always end up like this? Cato's words affecting her, sending her into a mess of confusion and anxiety? It was like she was stuck in some awful dream, replaying over and over, as if she were in a coma she could never quite recover from. Those words he had uttered earlier would have usually been enough to destroy her, to literally slide a blade into her chest and stab her over and over until she bled to her own demise. But at that moment, Katniss couldn't even feel angry. It was as if those few words had been enough to empower her to rise from her general apathy to put on her cheery facade for the Capitol, for Snow. In other words, she'd managed to avoid having her throat sliced by the President once more, and it was all thanks to Cato.

Now, she was stuck with the aftermath.

Firstly, there was outrage. How _dare _Cato speak to her, how _dare _he lean into her and touch her so treacherously when she had made it quite clear she had wanted absolutely nothing to do with him? Had she become so weak to give him the impression that he could just act upon her without fear of any consequence or repercussion? If so, he was wrong. The next time Cato tried to pull this shit on her, she would not hesitate to kill him while he slept. All it took was a carefully-placed arrow to his chest, and her usual unstable self, and it was done. All she needed was the trigger, she assured herself vehemently.

Finally, of course, was the confusion. Again, why had he done it? Had he spoken to her to deliberately get a rise out of her, or to genuinely warn her? Had he noticed her feeling depressed from her thoughts about Peeta at that time, and had got her attention just to lift her from those thoughts? The more and more she thought about it, the more crazy and delusional she sounded. But Katniss had had enough of contemplating and fretting over Cato's unexplained words and actions that she wasn't even going to continue on that train of thought. She was too tired, too burdened by everything going on right now. She just wanted to lay down and rest, and forget about Cato and his odd actions.

And so, she slept.

Nestled safely into the arms of her dead lover.

All she could cherish throughout the duration of the night was the warmth of his caress and the undeniable, inexplicable scent of something _familiar _lingering on her pillow the morning after.

.

.

.

He'd said it to her because he had noticed.

Noticed the way her grey eyes had misted over, the way her fingers had clenched the fabric of her flowing gown so tightly, the way her lips mouthed the silent syllables of _Pee-ta, _how she had suddenly seemed trapped, stuck; and yet oh-so unreachable from his grasp.

And still, he had done it.

He had managed to reach her.

It was a great triumph for the blonde young man, even if it were one so small. But truthfully, it was enough. Even if her grey eyes had stormed and blazed with contempt towards him, the disgust written all over her face at the idea that _he _had touched her (oh, how it hurt, how it _fucking _hurt), he was okay with it. Really. He had promised he would do whatever it took to fix Katniss, and if he got hurt in the process, that was totally fine with him.

He deserved it anyway.

Granted, by doing this he knew he wasn't going to earn himself redemption or forgiveness from Katniss. He'd long fallen from that pure, beautiful hope, his dreams for that clipped the moment he had killed in that Arena so mercilessly, so easily. If any were to ask if he had any regrets about killing the others, he'd say he had none.

Not even killing Peeta.

Because the only thing he really regretted was killing Katniss' light.

Katniss, Katniss, Katniss.

That's all that really seemed to occupy his mind nowadays.

Touching her when she was conscious of who he was was completely different to him being able to hold her when she was under the assumption he was her dead lover. Touching her on the stage just a while ago... the contact was far more limited, but strangely more exhilarating. He didn't understand it himself, especially when he had to endure her hateful response afterwards, but really, did anything make sense with Katniss anymore? It was a question he often found himself thinking rather unhappily about.

His promise... to dedicate himself to her was certainly a twisted turn of events, but Cato certainly did intend to follow it through. And when he had touched Katniss, beneath the utter _hate _and anger etched on her face, Cato couldn't help but feel a painful stab of satisfaction from within: because deep down, he _knew. _For Katniss to hate him, to loathe him, to be angry with him, furious, bitter, frustrated... it was better than seeing her empty and eaten away by the painful memories of Lover Boy. Katniss came alive when emotion flowed through her. If him existing was good enough for Katniss to simply _feel, _no matter how much her anger and spite hurt him, then it was reason enough for Cato to persevere with his promise.

A promise to fix Katniss...

whilst at the same time undoing the once proud Victor of District 2.

Again and again, it echoed.

_Let Katniss be happy._

He would endure, for her sake.


End file.
